LIBRARY  OF  THE 
UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 
AT  URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 


821 

C39Yi 

V.3 


'English 


The  person  charging  this  material  is  re- 
sponsible for  its  return  to  the  library  from 
which  it  was  withdrawn  on  or  before  the 
Latest  Date  stamped  below. 

Theft,  mutilation,  and  underlining  of  books 
are  reasons  for  disciplinary  action  and  may 
result  in  dismissal  from  the  University. 

UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS  LIBRARY  AT  URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 


juL  2 / \m 


TU61— O-lOQfi 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2017  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign  Alternates 


https://archive.org/details/studiesinchaucer03loun_0 


s :UDIES  IN  CHAUGER 


HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


LIBRARY 


i^LlNOl^ 


THOMAS  R.  LOUNSBURY 

PROFESSOR  OF  ENGLISH  IN  THE  SHEFFIELD  SCIENTIFIC  SCHOOL 
OF  YALE  UNIVERSITY 


m THREE  VOLUMES 
VOL.  III. 


I 


I 

I NEW  YORK 

hIARPER  & BROTHERS,  FRANKLIN  SQUARE 

i 1892 


I 


Copyright,  1891,  by  Harper  & Brothers. 


All  rights  reserved. 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL  III. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

I. 

His  position  among  English  poets,  3,  4;  vicissitudes  in  his  rep- 
utation, 4,  5 ; difficulty  of  the  investigation,  5-7 ; continuous 
popularity  of  great  writers,  7-9;  Chaucer  no  exception,  9,  10; 
recognition  by  contemporaries,  10-15;  by  Gower,  Scogan,  and 
the  author  of  the  ‘Testament  of  Love,’  10,  ii  ; by  Occleve  and 
Lydgate,  ii,  12;  imitation  by  Froissart,  13 ; tribute  of  Eustache 
Deschamps,  13-15;  early  popularity  in  Scotland,  15-18;  imi- 
tated by  James  L,  Henryson,  Dunbar,  and  Gawin  Douglas,  18- 
22;  popularity  in  the  fifteenth  century,  22-33;  Occleve  and 
Lydgate  and  their  tributes,  22-27 ; sterility  of  the  century,  27- 
30;  mentioned  constantly  with  Gower  and  Lydgate,  30-33; 
invention  of  printing  followed  by  numerous  editions  of  Chau- 
cer’s works,  33;  popularity  in  the  sixteenth  century,  33-72; 
number  of  editions  issued,  33,  34 ; popularity  with  the  Puri- 
tans, 34-41  ; admiration  expressed  by  writers  of  the  time,  41, 
42 ; by  Spenser,  42-46 ; literary  controversies  in  the  sixteenth 
century  as  related  to  Chapcer,  46-65 ; conflict  of  the  classical 
and  the  modern  movement,  46-48  ; the  controversy  about  ver- 
sification, 48-53  ; supposed  irregularity  of  Chaucer’s  versifica- 
tion7  5T^^'.sixteenth=ce'ntury  pronunciation  of  Chaucer,  54- 
58;  controversy  as  to  the  diction  of  poetry,  58,  59;  revival  of 
Chaucer’s  words,  59-65;  blunders  as  to  his  reputation  in  the 
Elizabethan  age,  65-67;  Chaucer  and  the  drama,  67-70; 
Gower’s  recognized  inferiority,  70-72;  Chaucer’s  reputation 
touches  its  lowest  point  in  the  seventeenth  century,  73 ; Earle’s 
remark,  74;  admiration  expressed  by  Milton,  74-76;  Kynas- 
ton’s  Latin  translation,  76-82;  desirability  then  felt  of  trans- 
lating English  works  into  Latin,  82-84  < comments  and  views 
of  Pepys  and  Mennis  on  Chaucer,  84-88 ; Braithwaite's  com- 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  III. 


merit,  88-90;  Phillips’s  comment,  91  ; edition  of  1687,  92;  ref- 
erences to  Chaucer  by  Cokayne,  Evelyn,  and  Denham,  93-95 ; 
Addison  on  Chaucer,  95-97. 

II. 

Anthony  Wood  on  Chaucer,  98;  Dryden  on,  99-109;  supposed 
rudeness  of  Chaucer’s  ^versification,  110-L12;  imitations  of 
Chaucer,  112-114;  seventeenth-century  imitations,  115-119; 
eighteenth-century  imitations,  1 19-132;  practice  of  moderni- 
sation, 1 32-1 34;  assumed  obsoleteness  of  Chaucer’s  language, 
134- i4^~change  in  language,  140-151;  ignorance  of  Early 
English  in  the  eighteenth  century,  1 51-154;  modernization  of 
Chaucer,  154-156;  eighteenth-century  preference  for  modern- 
izations, 156-159;  Dryden’s  modernizations,  1 59-1 79;  Pope’s, 
179-185;  Betterton’s,  185-188;  Ogle’s,  189-191;  two  classes 
of  modernizations,  191,  192  ; modernizations  of  Boyse  and 
Brooke,  1 92-1 97  ; of  Lipscomb,  197-200;  of  Dart,  Calcott,  and 
Harte,  200,  201  ; eighteenth-century  diction  unsuked  for  mod- 
ernizing Chaucer,  201,  202;  nineteenth  - century  and  ?dgh- 
teenth-century  modernizations  compared,  202,  203 ; moderni- 
zations of  Lord  Thurlow,  203-208;  of  Wordsworth,  208-210; 
of  Leigh  Hunt,  210-212;  new  scheme  of  modernization,  212- 
214;  the  last  of  the  modernizations,  214-229. 

III. 

The  influence  of  Dryden,  230-233;  Gay’s  comedy,  234;  Pope  on 
ChajiC-er,  234-237 ; eighteenth-century  opinion,  237-239  ;'Ten- 
dency  of  modernizations,  240 ; antiquarian  interest  in  Chaucer, 
241  ; Mrs.  Cooper’s  publication,  242,  243  ; increasing  interest  in 
Chaucer,  243,  244;  Warton  on  Chaucer,  244-253;  reason  for 
the  failure  of  the  eighteenth  century  to  appreciate  Chaucer, 
253,  254;  influence  of  Tyrwhitt,  254,  255  ; views  overthrown  by 
Tyrwhitt,  255-258;  Chaucer’s  popularity  in  the  later  Georgian 
period,  258-263  ; admiration  felt  by  Wordsworth,  Southey,  and 
Coleridge,  258,  259;  Byron  on  Chaucer,  260,  261  ; Miss  Mitford 
on  Chaucer,  262,  263 ; presehTTapidly  increasing  popularity  of 
Chaucer,  263,  264;  the  question  of  the  modernization  of  Chau- 
cer in  orthography  and  pronunciation,  264-279. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

The  antagonism  between  authors  and  reviewers  as  old  as  litera- 
ture, 283  ; no  record  of  hostile  criticism  of  Chaucer  by  his 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  III. 


V 


contemporaries,  284 ; evidence  from  his  writings  of  its  exist- 
ence, 284-288  ; his  dissatisfaction  with  his  own  work,  288,  289 ; 
ignorant  criticism  about  Chaucer  inherited  by  the  present  age, 
289,  290;  the  conventional  comparison  of  Chaucer  with  Shak- 
speare,  290 - 293  ; continued  existence  of  eighteenth -century 
views^of  Chaucer’s  art,  293;  the  inspired-barbarian  view,  294, 
295  ; Chaucer  a consciou^worker,  295,  296J  in  versification,  a 
reformer  and  an  inventor,  296-299 ; the  three  kinds  of  verse  he 
found  in  common  use,  299-3^  ; alliterative  verse,  299;  ryming 
verse  in  stanzas,  499,  300;  octo^llabic  verse,  301  ; the  inven- 
tion and  introduction  of  the  heroic  measure  hiS  greatest  ser- 
vice,  301-303 ; his  creation  of  the  ryme  royal,  304-306;  the 
three  measures  he  principally  used,  306,  307  ; his  naturaliza- 
tion of  foreign  measures  and  experiments  in  versification,  307- 
316;  his  progressive  development  in  the  handling  of  the 
matter  of  his  poems,  316-322;  absence  of  verbal  quibbles,  319; 
characteristics  of  early  poets,  322,  323  ; Chaucer’s  attitude  tow- 
ards literature  a critical  one,  323-344;  his  method  not  char- 
acterized by  blind  creative  impulse,  324;  prominence  of  his 
own  personality,  325  ; freedom  from  the  bombastic  and  the 
commonplace,  326^32^ ; freedom  from  prolixity,  327-330 ; his 
criticism  of  the  ‘ Gestes,’  330-332  ; of  the  ‘ Tragedies,’  332-335  ; 
the  ‘ Legend  of  Good  Women  ’ as  showing  changing  taste,  335- 
339;  the  critical  tendency  as  revealed  in  the  tales  of  the 
Franklin,  the  Wife  of  Bath,  and  the  Clerk  of  Oxford,  339-344; 
the  question  of  morality,  344-364;  the  controversy  as  to  the 
province  of  art,  344,  345  ; the  apology  of  conformity  with  the 
taste  of  his  times,  345-347  ; Chaucer’s  view  of  the  relation  of 
art  to  morality,  347-353 ; his  avoidance  of  the  revolting,  353- 
356;  his  treatment  of  the  immoral,  356-358;  the  humorous 
tales  in  literary  history,  358-363;  their  excellence,  363,  364; 
Chaucer’s  art  injuriously  a|fected  by  his  learning,  364-375  ; in- 
trusion of  irrelevant  learning,  365-371 ; improper  digressions, 
371,  372;  passages  improperly  introduced,  372-375  ; the  ques- 
tion of  art  in  Chaucer’s  indifference  to  the  truth  of  fact,  375- 
391  ; his  anachronisms,  375-380;  conformity  to  fact  not  cared 
for,  380-383;  Shakspeare,  Milton,  Gray,  similarly  indifferent, 
383-387;  the  value  of  conformity  to  fact,  387-391  ; the  ques- 
tion of  Chaucer’s  originality,  391-430;  his  obligations  to  other 
writers,  392-398  ; mistaken  conceptions  of  originality,  398-406  ; 
view  of  Sandras  as  to  Chaucer’s  originality,  407-412  ; of  Wright, 
413,  414  ; the  invention  of  tales,  414-416  ; Chaucer’s  treatment 
of  his  material,  416-419;  its  originality,  419,  420;  his  acknowl- 
edgment of  his  obligations,  420-429 ; his  obligations  to  others 


VI 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  III. 


not  a question  of  first  importance,  429,  430  ; incompleteness  of 
his  works,  430-439  ; of  the  ‘ Canterbury  Tales,’  431-436  ; of  the 
‘House  of  Fame,’  436-438;  general  conclusions,  439-446; 
^changes  of  method,  439,  440 ; closeness  of  his  language  to  that 
of  common  life,  440-443;  position  in  English  literature,  444; 
characteristics  of  his  style,  444-446. 

APPENDIX. 

Discovery  of  a new  poem  of  Chaucer’s,  449,  450 , discovery  of  the 
originals  of  the  ‘Complaint  of  Venus,’ 450,  451  ; correction  of 
errors  in  the  text,  451,452;  maxim  derived  from  Seneca,  452; 
identification  of  Retters  with  the  modern  Rethel,  452,  453. 


Index 


455 


VIL 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


I. 

IN  1628,  twelve  years  after  the  death  of  Shakspeare, 
appeared  the  first  edition  of  the  ‘ Microcosmogra- 
phy’ of  John  Earle,  then  fellow  of  Merton  College,  Ox- 
ford, afterwards  successively  the  Bishop  of  Worcester  and 
of  Salisbury.  This  work  belonged  to  a class  of  writings 
— the  delineation  of  individual  characters — which  the  in- 
tensely introspective  life  of  the  earlier  half  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  had  made  extremely  popular.  Among 
the  number  sketched  was  that  of  a Vulgar-Spirited  Man. 
By  this  was  meant  one  who  merely  followed  in  all  things 
the  common  cry,  who  had  no  opinions  but  the  received 
opinions  of  the  majority  about  him.  In  the  description 
of  the  character  occurs  a passage  v/hich  is  of  some  im- 
portance to  us,  as  marking  the  position  then  supposed 
to  be  held  in  popular  estimation  by  the  first  great  writer 
of  our  literature.  The  vulgar-spirited  man  is  described, 
among  other  things,  as  one  “ that  cries  Chaucer  for  his 
money  above  all  our  English  poets,  because  the  voice 
has  gone  so,  and  he  has  read  none.”  We  shall  have  oc- 
casion to  see  in  the  course  of  this  chapter  that  these 
words  represent  a literary  tradition  rather  than  a real 
sentiment.  Yet  considered  merely  as  a survival,  they 
have  a peculiar  interest.  For  at  the  time  they  were 


4 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


written  a succession  of  authors  had  come  and  gone  who 
had  made  the  Elizabethan  age  the  proudest  in  our  lit- 
erary annals.  The  intellectual  outburst  of  that  period, 
it  is  true,  had  long  before  reached  its  point  of  highest 
flow.  It  was  then  running  in  narrow  channels  or  losing 
itself  entirely  among  shallows.  But  if  the  power  of  pro- 
duction was  beginning  to  fail,  self-respect  still  survived 
unimpaired.  A certain  degree  of  distance,  indeed,  is 
usually  needed  to  gain  a proper  conception  of  the  mag- 
nitude of  large  objects;  and  Shakspeare  was  as  yet  too 
near  the  time  to  have  the  fulness  and  extent  of  his 
superiority  generally  appreciated.  But  it  is  certainly 
creditable  to  the  honesty  and  healthy  spirit  of  the  age 
that  the  poet  of  English  literature,  strictly  so  called,  who 
was  first  in  point  of  time,  was  still  reckoned  by  the  voice 
of  common  tradition  the  first  in  point  of  greatness.  With 
an  exception  in  favor  of  one  man  only,  that  verdict  has 
never  been  set  aside.  ^ No  higher  tribute  can  be  paid  to 
the  freshness  and  power  of  Chaucer’s  genius  than  to  say 
that  it  has  never  failed  in  any  period  to  triumph  over  the 
obsoleteness  of  his  diction  and  the  capriciousness  of 
popular  taste.  More  than  that,  though  nearly  five  cen- 
turies have  gone  by  since  his  death,  in  the  long  and  il- 
lustrious roll  of  English  poets  the  opinions  of  all  com- 
petent to  judge  place  only  the  name  of  Shakspeare 
above  his  own.^ 

At  the  same  time,  it  need  not  be  denied  that  to  many, 
even  of  professedly  literary  men,  Chaucer  is  still  a name 
rather  than  a power.  If  this  be  true  now,  when  the 
means  for  becoming  familiar  with  his  works  have  vastly 
increased,  it  was  necessarily  much  truer  of  periods  when 


VICISSITUDES  IN  HIS  REPUTATION  5 

acquaintance  with  his  writings  was  looked  upon  as  an 
achievement  that  equalled  in  difficulty  the  mastery  of  a 
foreign  tongue,  but  was  attended  with  neither  the  ad- 
vantage nor  the  repute  which  a knowledge  of  the  latter 
would  have  conferred.  In  the  history  of  the  fame  of 
every  great  author  we  are  certain  to  find  vicissitudes  of 
exaltation  and  depression.  This,  which  is  the  lot  of  all, 
would  in  any  case  have  been  the  lot  of  Chaucer.  But  to 
the  common  fate  he  was  subject  in  a peculiar  degree. 
His  reputation  was  affected  by  the  revolution  of  lan- 
guage even  more  than  by  that  of  literary  taste.  Its 
history,  accordingly,  is  marked  by  variations  on  a grand 
scale.  He  early  attained  and  long  held  a height  of 
celebrity  which  is  reached  by  few.  The  period  of  ad- 
miration almost  extravagant  was  followed  by  a period 
of  comparative  neglect,  during  which  little  was  known 
of  him  outside  of  a comparatively  small  class.  This,  in 
turn,  has  been  followed  by  a revival  of  interest  which, 
though  far  from  having  come  to  its  full  vigor,  has  once 
more  already  brought  him  prominently  to  the  front.  He 
is  no  longer  in  the  first  rank  of  English  poets  merely  in 
name.  His  influence  is  a reality  to  many.  It  is  stead- 
ily reaching  wider  circles,  and  gives  abundant  signs  that 
it  is  only  in  the  first  flush  of  a renewed  course  of  literary 
conquest. 

To  trace  the  history  of  Chaucer’s  reputation  is  the  ob- 
ject of  the  present  chapter.  It  is  an  investigation  that 
from  its  very  nature  is  one  of  peculiar  difficulty.  The 
peril  both  of  over-estimate  and  of  under-estimate  is  al- 
ways present.  Even  with  the  ample  facilities  of  our 
own  day,  it  is  no  easy  matter  to  gauge  the  comparative 


6 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


popularity  of  writers,  or  ascertain  their  rank  in  public 
opinion.  At  the  very  outset  we  have  to  throw  out  a 
large  share  of  the  judgment  that  is  noisiest  in  its  utter- 
ance. That  general  public  which  reads  contemporary 
works  of  more  or  less  merit  shades  off  insensibly  into  a 
vastly  larger  public  which  reads  contemporary  works  of  no 
merit  whatever.  The  abundant  testimony  furnished  by 
the  men  of  this  intellectual  grade  may  keep  the  authors 
of  the  present  before  us.  It  has  little  to  do,  however, 
with  establishing  their  relative  position.  Yet  the  opin- 
ion of  this  mighty  mass  does  carry  a certain  weight,  not 
from  the  actual  value  of  the  utterance,  but  from  its  vol- 
ume. We  despise  the  judgment  of  the  market-place,  and 
experience  shows  that  we  are  usually  right  in  despising 
it.  Unfortunately,  it  also  shows  that  we  are  sometimes 
wrong.  The  voice  of  all  men  turns  out  occasionally, 
even  in  literary  matters,  to  be  more  worthy  of  respect 
than  the  voice  of  the  chosen  few.  He  alone  can  be  ab- 
solutely secure  of  immortality  who  has  gained  the  suf- 
frages of  both. 

The  difficulty  of  arriving  at  correct  conclusions  in  re- 
gard to  the  authors  of  the  past,  especially  of  the  remote 
past,  is  of  a different  nature.  In  their  case  it  is  the 
scantiness  of  the  record  that  troubles  us,  and  not  its  ful- 
ness. From  their  own  times  very  few  estimates  of  any 
kind  are  handed  down.  Oftentimes  there  are  scarcely 
any.  We  are  consequently  in  perpetual  danger  of  draw- 
ing; erroneous  inferences  from  those  that  chance  to  be 
preserved.  They  are  always  liable  to  represent  individ- 
ual tastes  rather  than  the  general  judgment.  There  is 
even  greater  danger  of  being  misled,  not  by  the  character 


CONTINUOUS  POPULARITY  OF  GREAT  WRITERS  7 

of  the  estimates,  but  by  their  rarity.  We  are  insensibly 
influenced  to  believe,  because  a thing  does  not  happen 
to  be  mentioned,  that  therefore  it  does  not  exist ; be- 
cause an  author  is  not  named,  that  therefore  he  is  not 
read. 

In  the  case  of  Chaucer  this  has  led  to  some  most  un- 
founded inferences  and  erroneous  assertions.  Exagger- 
ated accounts  are  often  given  of  the  neglect  which  at 
particular  periods  has  overtaken  his  writings.  It  is  im- 
plied that  there  were  times  when  he  was  absolutely  for- 
gotten. For  myself,  I confess  to  feeling  little  faith  in 
the  great  poems  that  continue  to  be  unread  and  the 
great  poets  that  continue  to  be  unknown.  It  is  one  of 
the  blessings,  or  curses,  that  the  invention  of  printing  has 
brought  in  its  train,  that  every  age  witnesses  the  tem- 
porary revival  of  some  work  or  author  that  the  world  has 
not  taken  the  pains  to  remember.  With  it  is  preached 
the  comfortable  doctrine,  dear  to  unsuccessful  medioc- 
rity, that  the  only  men  who  are  worth  anything  are  the 
men  who  fail.  Undoubtedly  a man  of  genius,  under  the 
stress  of  peculiar  circumstances,  may  be  deprived,  for  a 
period  at  least,  of  the  honor  to  which  he  is  justly  en- 
titled. Still,  the  instances  are  far  fewer  than  is  usually 
supposed.  The  belief  is  largely  due  to  the  disposition 
to  impute  our  own  personal  ignorance  to  the  whole  of 
mankind.  It  is  a common  mistake  to  fancy  that  the 
writers  we  ourselves  do  not  hear  spoken  of,  or  the  works 
we  do  not  regard,  are  not  spoken  of  and  are  not  regarded 
at  all.  We  are  naturally  inclined  to  estimate  the  popu- 
larity of  an  author  by  his  popularity  in  the  immediate 
circle  to  which  we  belong,  or  of  the  still  larger  but  never- 


8 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


/ 


theless  limited  circle  the  views  of  which  come  to  our 
ears.  He  is  supposed  to  rise  or  fall  in  the  estimate  of 
all  men  according  to  the  estimate  of  the  few  we  know,  or 
know  about.  As  a result  of  fallacious  inferences,  based 
upon  lack  of  information  or  upon  misinformation,  the 
announcement  is  not  unfrequently  made  that  this  or 
that  author  is  no  longer  read.  There  have  been  plenty 
of  proclamations  of  this  sort  in  the  history  of  English 
literature,  and  there  are  likely  to  be  plenty  more.  State- 
ments of  such  a nature  are  usually  made  with  the  pom- 
pous assurance  that  specially  characterizes  the  men  who 
are  unable  to  realize  the  largeness  of  the  world,  and  how 
very  insignificant  a part  of  it  is  the  fraction  of  the  frac- 
tion to  which  they  belong ; who  fancy,  moreover,  in  the 
changing  tastes  of  the  hour,  or  in  the  sentiments  of  some 
special  clique,  the  final  word  of  criticism  has  been  spoken 
and  the  final  conclusion  of  the  ages  has  been  reached 
and  recorded. 

As  a matter  of  fact,  there  is  never  a time  when  a 
really  great  author  is  unknown  or  neglected.  He  is  in 
fashion  somewhere.  He  is  to  some  an  inspiration  and  a 
guide,  though  to  the  little  coterie  of  which  we  form  a 
part  he  may  seem  forgotten,  and  by  it  may  perhaps  be 
ignorantly  despised.  A reputation  that  has  been  estab- 
lished by  the  suffrage  of  centuries  will  never  be  perma- 
nently affected  by  the  hostility  of  any  person  or  clique ; 
though  the  multitude  may,  for  a time,  mistake  the  failure 
to  protest  against  condemnation  as  an  assent  to  its  jus- 
tice. It  is  the  advocates  of  the  writer  whose  position  is 
not  assured  that  are  disposed  to  be  loudest  in  proclama- 
tions of  his  superiority.  The  men  who  really  believe  in 


HIS  CONTINUOUS  POPULARITY 


9 


the  greatness  of  the  god  they  worship  do  not  persistent- 
ly  go  about  Asserting  his  pre-eminence.  They  assume  it 
as  a matter  about  which  there  can  be  no  controversy. 
Any  other  course  would  suggest  a suspicion  of  the  ful- 
ness of  their  own  faith,  if  it  did  not  actually  imply  secret 
distrust.  It  is  so  with  the  lovers  of  a great  poet,  at  least 
of  a great  poet  of  the  past.  They  are  not  in  the  habit 
of  thrusting  their  admiration  of  him  upon  a heedless 
world.  Nor  do  they  often  take  the  pains  to  put  upon 
record  the  opinions  they  entertain.  They  are  content 
with  simply  holding  them  and  with  quietly  despising  the 
idols  that  have  been  set  up  by  the  latest  devotees  of  the 
newest  literary  divinities. 

Chaucer  is  no  exception  to  the  rule.  Against  his 
continuous  popularity  no  time  has  ever  been  able  to 
prevail.  This  is  perfectly  consonant  with  the  view  that 
the  circle  of  those  who  knew  about  him  was  at  one  pe- 
riod constantly  narrowing,  and  the  band  of  those  who 
studied  him  was  constantly  diminishing.  Still,  the  three 
tests  of  enduring  fame — the  opinion  of  contemporaries, 
the  opinion  of  foreign  nations,  the  opinion  of  posterity — 
he  has  successfully  met.  The  first  of  these  it  was  es- 
sential for  him  to  have,  living  in  the  age  he  did.  The 
mere  fact  of  his  reputation  continuing  to  last  at  all 
proves  that  he  had  it.  For  whatever  truth  there  may 
be  now  in  Wordsworth’s  dictum,  that  every  great  origi- 
nal writer  must  create  his  own  audience,  it  could  have 
been  true  only  to  a very  limited  extent  in  the  age  of 
manuscript.  If  an  author  did  not  please  his  immediate 
contemporaries,  he  stood  little  chance  of  pleasing  pos- 
terity, because  he  stood  little  chance  of  reaching  it. 


lO  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

Appreciation  of  him  in  his  own  time  was  almost  neces- 
sary to  his  being  known  to  after-time.  In  order  to  jus- 
tify the  trouble  and  expense  of  copying,  his  work  would 
have  to  be  made  interesting  to  the  people  who  were 
then  alive ; for  the  transcribers  could  not  reasonably  be 
expected  to  anticipate  the  feelings  of  people  who  were 
some  day  going  to  be  alive. 

Chaucer  easily  fulfils  this  first  condition.  The  ap- 
preciation of  his  contemporaries  is  something  that  he 
received  on  even  a grand  scale.  When  we  take  into 
account  the  scantiness  of  the  literary  records  of  former 
ages,  the  tributes  to  his  greatness  that  have  come  down 
from  his  own  day  are  extraordinary,  both  for  their  num- 
ber and  their  character.  The  recognition  of  his  posi- 
tion as  a poet  is  so  general  and  so  hearty  that  it  fur- 
nishes conclusive  proof  of  the  profound  impression  he 
made  upon  the  men  of  his  own  time.  It  was  remarka- 
ble for  the  unanimity  Avith  which  the  highest  rank  was 
accorded  him  without  question.  The  well-known  lines 
of  Gower  in  which  testimony  is  borne  to  the  univer- 
sality of  his  reputation  and  to  the  popularity  of  his 
writings  have  already  been  quoted.^  Two  or  three  pas- 
sages, in  addition,  in  this  same  author’s  work  are  clear 
evidences  of  the  favor  in  which  the  poem  of  ‘Troilus 
and  Cressida’  was  held.^  This,  at  the  time  of  the  com- 
position of  the  ‘ Confessio  Amantis,’  must  have  been 
Chaucer’s  principal  production.  Scogan,  likewise,  in 
the  poem  he  addressed  to  the  lords  and  gentlemen  of 
the  king’s  house,  speaks  of  him  in  more  than  one  place 
as  his  master.  He  calls  him  the  noble  poet  of  Britain. 


^ Vol.  i.,  p.  44. 


^ E.  g.,  Confessio  A maniis,  vol.  ii,,  pp.  95,  388. 


TESTIMONY  OF  OCCLEVE  AND  LYDGATE 


II 


He  copies  in  full  one  of  his  shorter  pieces,  as  if  what- 
ever was  said*  by  him  were  the  final  authority  upon  any 
disputed  point.  The  unknown  contemporary  author  of 
the  prose  ‘Testament  of  Love’  is  equally  earnest  in  his 
praises.  Chaucer,  in  his  eyes,  is  the  noble  English  phil- 
osophical poet.  He  surpasses  all  other  writers  in  mat- 
ter and  in  manner,  and  to  him  worship  and  reverence 
are  due  from  all. 

But  it  is  at  the  hands  of  the  two  men  who  were  con- 
temporaries and  survivors  that  he  receives  the  most 
frequent  testimonials  of  praise.  These  are  Occleve  and 
Lydgate.  By  both  of  them  the  superiority  of  Chaucer 
to  all  who  had  written  in  the  English  tongue  is  recog- 
nized as  an  indisputable  fact.  Occleve  went  farther. 
The  isle  of  Britain  could  never  bring  forth  the  equal  of 
him  whom  he  styled  “ the  first  finder*  of  our  fair  lan- 
guage.” Ardent  as  are  Occleve’s  testimonials  to  his 
greatness,  they  are  exceeded  by  those  of  Lydgate  in 
number,  though  they  could  not  well  be  in  fervency. 
There  is  scarcely  a production  of  the  latter,  of  any  length, 
that  does  not  contain  references  to  the  poet  or  to  his 
writings.  Some  of  these  passages  can  be  found  in  all 
extended  accounts  of  Chaucer’s  life.  There  are  many 
more  that  have  never  been  noticed.  Lydgate  is,  in  fact, 
never  weary  of  applying  to  Chaucer  the  title  of  chief 
poet  of  Britain.  In  his  ‘ Flower  of  Courtesy  ’ he  la- 
ments his  death.  Those  who  come  after  may  strive  to 
imitate  his  style,  but  as  he  declares,  perhaps  from  per- 
sonal experience,  “ it  will  not  be.”  That  fountain  is 
henceforth  dry.  It  is,  however,  in  his  translation  of 


’ Poet. 


12 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


Boccaccio’s  ‘ Fall  of  Princes’  that  perhaps  the  most  fre- 
quent references  abound.  This  version  was  made  sev- 
eral years  after  Chaucer’s  death,  for  Lydgate  tells  us 
himself  that  he  turned  the  work  into  English  at  the 
desire  of  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  uncle  to  Henry  VI. 
His  patron  he  praises  highly  for  his  love  of  literature 
and  hatred  of  heretics,  none  of  whom  dared  come  in  his 
sight  or  abide  in  the  land.  As  it  was  not  until  the 
death  of  his  brother,  in  1423,  that  this  nobleman  be- 
came protector  of  the  realm,  the  reference  is  proof  of 
the  steady  hold  which  Chaucer  continued  to  maintain 
over  the  contemporary  men  of  letters  who  survived  him. 
The  passage  in  this  translation  which  gives  a list  of  the 
poet’s  writings  is  a very  familiar  one  to  students but 
it  is  only  one  of  many.  In  several  instances  he  did  not 
render  the  original,  because  the  incidents  recorded  had 
been  already  treated  by  Chaucer.  The  reason  he  gives 
for  the  omission  is  noteworthy.  Not  only  would  he 
himself  feel  that  it  was  presumption,  but  by  men  gen- 
erally he  would  be  looked  upon  as  having  exhibited  it. 
Anything  he  could  do,  he  tells  us,  would  be  dimmed  by 
the  greater  brilliancy  of  his  predecessor,  just  as  a star 
loses  its  light  in  the  presence  of  the  sun.  It  were  but 
vain  to  write  anew  things  said  by  him  before.  For  this 
express  reason  he  refuses  to  relate,  among  other  things, 
the  stories  of  Lucrece,  of  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  and  of 
Zenobia.  These  omissions  mean  more  than  at  first  sight 
they  seem.  The  admiration  which  could  hold  Lydgate’s 
verbosity  in  check  must  have  transcended  the  ordinary 
experience  of  mankind. 


See  vol.  i.,  p.  419  ff. 


IMITATION  BY  FROISSART 


13 


Even  in  his  own  time  Chaucer’s  reputation  had,  in 
some  measure,  extended  to  foreign  lands.  This  was 
not  then  to  be  expected  to  any  marked  degree.  Eng- 
lish literature,  in  a high  sense  of  the  word,  was  still  only 
in  its  beginnings,  and  it  is  not  in  the  beginnings  of  litera- 
ture that  reputation  passes  the  bounds  set  up  by  speech. 
This  is  true  even  now,  when  men  are  constantly  en- 
gaged in  the  search  for  literary  novelties  in  every  quar- 
ter. But  it  was  infinitely  more  true  of  the  fourteenth 
century.  We  need  not  therefore  be  surprised  to  find  only 
one  tribute  of  this  sort  expressly  paid  to  Chaucer  from 
authors  who  wrote  in  a foreign  tongue.  There  seems, 
indeed,  to  be  little  doubt  that  from  another  of  them 
he  received  the  compliment  of  imitation  on  a small 
scale,  and  of  occasional  borrowing  that  showed  at  least 
familiarity  with  one  portion  of  his  productions.  The 
opening  of  the  ‘ Death  of  Blanche  ’ corresponds  pre- 
cisely with  the  opening  of  the  poem  of  Froissart  en- 
titled Le  Paradis  d' Amour.  One  of  them  must  have 
been  taken  from  the  other.  A question  of  priority  be- 
tween two  pieces,  both  of  which  are  undated,  is  not 
easy  to  settle.  Still,  the  English  poem  was  pretty  cer- 
tainly written  about  1369,  and  the  probabilities  are  in 
favor  of  the  French  one  having  been  composed  as  late  as 
1384.  This  is  the  opinion  of  Sandras,  who  was  the  first 
to  point  out  the  resemblance  of  the  two  and  Sandras 
was  not  a critic  who  was  disposed  to  find  in  Chaucer 
any  originality  where  it  could  be  avoided. 

But  the  tribute  already  mentioned  as  having  been 
directly  paid  to  the  poet  by  a foreign  writer  is  one  of 

^ Atitde  sur  Chaucer,  par  Sandras,  p.  90. 


14 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


much  greater  importance.  It  came  from  the  pen  of 
Eustache  Deschamps.  That  poet  was  not  a man  who 
loved  Englishmen  as  Englishmen.  As  a Frenchman 
he  had  no  reason  to  do  so ; for  they  had  done  little 
but  make  his  own  land  miserable.  His  works,  indeed, 
are  full  of  the  bitterest  attacks  upon  the  island  wolves 
who  had  for  years  been  ravaging  his  country.  National 
prejudice  did  not,  however,  prevent  him  from  recog- 
nizing the  greatness  of  a writer  that  belonged  to  the 
hated  race.  To  Chaucer  he  sent,  with  a copy  of  his  own 
works,  a ballade  addressed  to  him  personally.^  In  the 
course  of  it  he  makes  a direct  reference  to  the  version 
of  the  Roman  de  la  Rose,  and  it  is  perhaps  worthy  of 
note  that  the  refrain  is  the  line, 

“ Grand  translateur,  noble  Geffroy  Chancier.” 

The  piece  is  written  throughout  in  a highly  eulogistic 
strain,  and  the  stanza  with  which  it  begins  likens  the 
English  poet  to  several  of  the  great  men  of  the  past. 
The  opening  lines,  translated,  read  as  follows : 

“ O Socrates  full  of  philosophy, 

Seneca  in  morals  and  English  in  conduct  of  life. 

Great  Ovid  in  thy  poetry, 

Concise  in  speaking,  skilful  in  writing. 

High-soaring  eagle,  who  by  thy  science 
Dost  illuminate  the  realm  of  .Tineas, 

The  isle  of  giants,  those  whom  Brutus  slew.” 

We  need  not  take  too  seriously  the  language  of  friend- 
ship or  compliment.  We  are  not  required  to  believe 
that  Deschamps  actually  esteemed  his  contemporary 
was  Socrates,  Seneca,  and  Ovid,  rolled  in  one.  It  is 

^ CEuvres  Completes  de  Eustache  Deschamps,  vol.  ii.,  p.  138, 


EARLY  POPULARITY  IN  SCOTLAND  15 

probable  that  the  poet’s  earlier  work  was  all  with  which 
the  French  Writer  was  acquainted.  He  seems  to  know 
Chaucer  only  or  principally  as  a translator.  Still,  there 
is  a heartiness  in  his  language  which  manifests  plainly 
that  he  recognized  the  existence  of  the  greatness  which 
it  was  perhaps  impossible  for  him  to  have  fully  appre- 
ciated. 

Scotland  may  also  be  looked  upon  with  propriety  as 
being  at  this  time  a foreign  country.  Still,  in  spite  of 
the  difference  of  dialect,  the  language  of  Central  Eng- 
land was  comprehensible  with  slight  difficulty,  and  its 
literature  was  fairly  accessible.  The  Northern  authors, 
accordingly,  stand  to  those  south  of  the  Tweed  in  the 
double  light  of  representatives  of  the  same  speech  and 
of  different  nationalities.  There  are,  indeed,  no  refer- 
ences of  theirs  to  Chaucer  that  can  be  considered  as 
belonging  strictly  to  his  own  age.  There  were  hardly 
any  writers  to  make  them.  Yet  the  wide  popularity  of 
the  poet  in  Scotland  during  the  whole  century  that  fol- 
lowed his  death  is  evidence  that  it  must  have  begun 
early  to  have  spread  so  extensively  among  a people 
sufficiently  foreign  to  have  its  immediate  judgment  rep- 
resent something  of  the  attitude  of  posterity.  A feel- 
ing, perhaps  pardonable  upon  the  score  of  patriotism, 
has  occasionally  induced  Scotch  critics  in  later  times  to 
speak  of  Barbour  as  a rival  of  his  great  English  con- 
temporary. This  has  been  too  preposterous  a claim  to 
find  any  to  make  it  boldly,  or  many  to  make  it  at  all. 
It  is  upon  an  author  of  later  date,  but  of  greater  genius, 
that  this  peculiar  method  of  manifesting  devotion  to 
one’s  country  has  concentrated  itself.  Dunbar  is  the 


l6  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

one  who  has  been  elevated  to  the  position  which  Bar- 
bour was  manifestly  incompetent  to  hold.  Pinkerton 
assures  us  that  as  he  had  a genius  at  least  equal  to 
Chaucer’s,  and  possessed,  in  addition,  greater  originality, 
it  is  no  wonder  that  he  excelled  the  English  poet  in 
every  respect.  It  is  just  to  say  that  this  is  a point  of 
critical  heroism  higher  than  the  audacity  of  most  even 
of  those  Scotch  writers  who  cultivate  patriotism  at  the 
expense  of  reason  has  been  able  to  attain.  It  is  assur- 
edly much  farther  than  the  courage  of  those  has  been 
willing  to  go  who  cared  at  all  for  the  estimation  in  which 
their  own  literary  sanity  was  held.  These  are  content 
with  putting  Dunbar  upon  a level  with  Chaucer  in  some 
respects.  There  are  certain  things,  they  tell  us,  in  which 
he  rivals  his  master.  In  views  of  this  sort  they  have 
occasionally  received  help  from  English  writers  whose 
words  have  been  treated  as  of  exceptional  importance, 
apparently  as  if,  besides  being  the  opinions  of  critics, 
they  were  also  concessions  wrung  from  an  enemy.' 

The  feeling  which  put  the  authors  just  mentioned 
upon  any  equality  with  Chaucer,  so  far  as  it  exists  at 
all,  is  confined  to  modern  Scotchmen.  The  earlier  ones 
were  absolutely  devoid  of  it.  The  question  of  nation- 
ality seems  not  to  have  entered  into  the  critical  esti- 
mates they  made  of  poetry.  Those  of  them  who  have, 
or  who  take,  any  occasion  to  speak  of  Chaucer  acknowl- 
edge unhesitatingly  his  pre-eminence.  By  Henryson, 
Dunbar,  Douglas,  and  Lyndesay  he  is  mentioned,  and 
oftentimes  with  a fervency  of  admiration  that  con- 
trasts in  a marked  degree  with  the  somewhat  tame  trib- 

* For  example,  Drake  in  his  Mornings  in  Spring,  vol.  ii.,  p.  15. 


EARLY  POPULARITY  IN  SCOTLAND 


7 


utes  that  are  paid  to  other  writers.  It  is  worthy  of  ob- 
servation, too;  that  the  higher  the  grade  of  ability,  the 
greater  was  the  admiration  exhibited.  By  Gawin  Doug- 
las he  is  styled  the  poet  without  peer,  the  heavenly 
trumpet,  the  horologe  and  rule  to  which  all  must  con- 
form.^ Dunbar  himself,  whom  modern  provincialism 
has  sometimes  given  a seat  beside  his  predecessor,  is 
much  the  most  ardent  of  all  in  the  enthusiasm  he  mani- 
fests. There  is  extravagance  in  the  praise  given  in  the 
following  verse  from  the  ‘ Golden  Targe/  but  there  is  no 
doubt  that  in  this  case  it  expressed  a genuine  feeling: 

“ O reverend  Chaucere,  rose  of  rethoris  all, 

As  in  oure  tong  ane  flour  imperiall, 

That  raise  in  Britane  evir,  quho  redis  rycht, 

Thou  beris  of  makaris  the  tryumph  riall ; 

Thy  fresch  anamalit  termes  celicall 

This  matir  coud  illumynit  have  full  brycht : 

Was  thou  noucht  of  oure  Inglisch  all  the  lycht, 
Surmounting  eviry  tong  terrestriall, 

Alls  fer  as  Mayes  morow  dois  mydnycht.” 

He  who  could  say  that  Chaucer  was  a poet  whose  utter- 
ance surpassed  that  of  earthly  tongues  anywhere  and 
everywhere  cannot  be  acchsed  of  lack  of  enthusiasm, 
whatever  fault  may  be  found  with  his  lack  of  judgment. 

Still,  the  mere  mention  of  Chaucer’s  name  with  com- 
mendation is  not  often  very  convincing  in  itself.  It 
might  prove  familiarity  and  regard,  and  again  it  might 
not.  It  was  the  general  practice  of  the  time,  and  it  re- 
quired then  as  profound  obscurity  to  escape  from  the 
praise  of  the  poet  as  it  does  now  from  the  pen  of  the 

^ In  the  prologue  to  his  translation  of  the  first  book  of  Virgil’s  y^neid. 

IIL— 2 


1 8 CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

biographer.  Highly  laudatory  epithets  were  showered 
at  that  period  upon  writers  who  in  our  days  are  reck- 
oned little  worthy  of  laudatory  epithets  of  a low  kind. 
There  are  more  satisfactory  tests  of  eminence  than  the 
mere  trumpeting  of  a name,  which  custom  would  have 
exacted  even  if  appreciation  did  not  exist.  It  is  the 
form  of  admiration  which  consists  in  imitation  that 
shows  how  widespread  and  profound  was  the  influence 
that  Chaucer  exerted.  The  extent  to  which  hi^  ideas, 
his  methods,  and  his  words  have  penetrated  the  produc- 
tions of  those  that  followed  proves  how  supremely  he 
had  come  to  be  the  ruling  force  in  our  literature.  This 
is  particularly  noticeable  in  the  Scotch  writers  of  the 
fifteenth  century  and  the  first  half  of  the  sixteenth. 
Whole  poems  of  theirs  owe  their  existence,  or  at  least 
the  form  they  assumed,  to  similar  productions  of  his 
creation.  In  other  instances  long  passages  have  been 
suggested  by  similar  passages  in  the  writings  of  him 
whom  all  recognized  as  their  common  master.  The 
characters  he  had  rendered  famous  were  constantly  in- 
troduced. The  events  he  has  narrated  are  made  the 
subject  of  frequent  reference,  and  of  reference  in  such  a 
way  as  to  imply  that  they  were  events  well  known  to  all. 
Entire  lines  are  often  adopted  with  scarcely  any  change. 
A sincerer  flattery,  indeed,  than  that  of  words  can  be 
found  at  times  in  the  words  themselves.  So  profoundly 
did  Chaucer  affect  the  Scotch  poets  that  the  peculiar 
grammatical  forms  of  the  Midland  dialect  in  which  he 
wrote  were  occasionally  introduced  by  them  into  the 
Northern  dialect  in  which  they  wrote.  This  is  especial- 
ly characteristic  of  the  productions  of  James  I.  and  of 


IMITATED  BY  JAMES  I. 


19 


Gawin  Douglas.  The  poetic  language  employed  by 
them  was  to  some  extent,  accordingly,  a language  which 
was  never  actually  used  in  the  speech  of  living  men. 
This  is  not  in  itself  a matter  of  much  consequence.  We 
need  not  find  fault  with  it,  so  long  as  those  did  not  who 
flourished  at  the  same  time.  Its  interest  to  us  lies  in 
the  fact  that  the  devotion  to  Chaucer  was  so  deep-seated 
that  the  reproduction  of  his  characteristics  extended  not 
merely  to  his  manner  and  his  mannerisms  and  to  the 
repetition  of  his  words,  but  even  to  the  very  form  his 
words  assumed. 

It  was  with  James  I.  that  this  imitation  began,  so  far 
as  any  memorials  have  been  handed  down.  His  educa- 
tion in  England  had  necessarily  brought  him  under  the 
influence  of  its  reviving  literature.  In  his  ‘ King’s  Quair,’ 
which  was  written  in  1423,  he  recommends  his  work  to 
his  “ masters  dear,  Gower  and  Chaucer.”  But  it  is  the 
influence  of  the  latter  only  that  can  be  seen.  That  in- 
fluence, however,  can  be  seen  everywhere.  The  poem  is 
fairly  saturated  with  the  spirit  of  his  writings,  while  there 
is  nothing  in  it  that  would  prove  beyond  question  that 
its  author  had  ever  read  a sentence  that  Gower  wrote. 
Nor  is  it  merely  the  spirit  tbat  is  represented.  Phrases, 
and  even  lines,  in  the  ‘ King’s  Quair’  are  taken  directly 
from  Chaucer,  and  long  passages  in  it  owe  to  him  their 
inspiration,  and,  it  might  be  almost  fair  to  add,  their 
existence.  The  Scottish  monarch’s  imitations,  in  truth, 
are  more  frequent  and  more  noticeable  than  those  of  any 
other  poet  of  the  fifteenth  century  whose  writings  have 
fallen  under  my  observation. 

The  practice  begun  by  James  I.  was  steadily  kept  up. 


20 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


Henryson  produced  the  ‘Testament  of  Cressida’  as  a 
continuation  of  ‘ Troilus  and  Cressida/  For  a long  time 
this  piece  maintained  its  place,  as  has  been  seen,  in  the 
collected  edition  of  the  English  poet’s  works,  as  if  it 
were  a composition  of  his  own/  Dunbar’s  writings  dis- 
play the  same  characteristics  as  those  of  King  James. 
Chaucer’s  influence  can  be  traced  in  all  his  longer  poems. 
His  phrases  occur  often,  and  sometimes  a whole  line  is 
taken  almost  bodily ‘The  Tua  Maryit  Wemen  and 
the  Wedo,’  though  written  in  alliterative  verse,  is  plainly 
modelled,  so  far  as  its  matter  and  spirit  are  concerned, 
upon  the  prologue  to  the  Wife  of  Bath’s  tale.  To  that 
production  Bishop  Percy  considered  it  nothing  inferior. 
It  is  fair  to  place  before  others  such  an  estimate  of  this 
piece  by  a writer  whose  critical  opinion  is  entitled  to  re- 
spect, though  it  seems  to  me  to  display  in  this  instance 
neither  knowledge  nor  insight.  These  two  poems  are 
alike  in  that  there  is  outspokenness  and  coarseness  in 
both.  But  the  broad  downright  satire  of  the  imitation, 
though  vigorous  and  pungent,  lacks  utterly  the  occa- 
sional delicate  humor  of  the  original,  its  ironical  insinua- 
tion which  implies  so  much  more  than  it  says,  and,  above 
all,  the  lightness  of  touch,  passing  without  effort  from 
gayety  to  melancholy,  that  contrasts  conspicuously  and 
yet  blends  inextricably  with  the  boisterous  jollity  which 
to  the  hasty  reader  is  the  predominating  tone  of  the 
prologue  to  the  Wife  of  Bath’s  tale.  Criticism  of  a very 

’ See  vol.  i.,  pp.  458  ff.  Compare  also  the  seventeenth  stanza 

^ For  example,  of  the  first  canto  of  Gawin  Douglas’s 

“Dyane  the  goddesse  chaste  of  woddis  King  Hart  K\\\\  line  108  and  lines 
grene.”  The  Golden  Targe,  1.  76.  1 17-iig  of  the  Knight's  tale. 

“O  chaste  goddesse  of  the  woodes  grene.” 

Knight's  Tale,  1.  1439. 


IMITATED  BY  GAWIN  DOUGLAS 


21 


similar  nature  can  be  made  of  ‘The  Freiris  of  Berwik,’ 
an  anonymous  poem  which  has  been  frequently  attrib- 
uted to  Dunbar.  It  is  a manifest  imitation  of  Chaucer’s 
humorous  stories.  Like  its  originals,  it  is  a tale  of  in- 
trigue. What  it  wants  is  the  one  thing  by  which  the 
English  poet’s  broadest  pieces  are  supremely  character- 
ized, and  that  is  the  air  of  literary  distinction. 

Perhaps  the  one  author  by  whom  the  sort  of  admi- 
ration which  consists  in  imitation  was  expressed  most 
fully  was  Bishop  Douglas.  In  his  ‘Palace  of  Honor’ 
the  extent  to  which  he  followed  the  prologue  to  the 
‘ Legend  of  Good  Women’  would  almost  subject  him  in 
modern  times  to  the  charge  of  plagiarism.  The  conduct 
of  his  piece  is  largely  patterned  upon  this  particular 
work.  He  is  in  it  accused  of  disloyalty  to  the  queen  of 
love,  as  Chaucer  was  to  the  god.  He  is  defended  by  the 
muse  Calliope,  as  Chaucer  was  by  Alcestis.  There  is  the 
same  kind  of  disquisition  upon  the  duty  of  the  one  higher 
in  station  to  be  merciful  and  not  cruel.  His  trespass  was 
forgiven  in  the  same  way  as  was  Chaucer’s.  He  is  to 
write  something  in  praise  of  Venus  as  the  English  poet 
was  to  write  something  in  praise  of  women  who  had  suf- 
fered for  their  faithfulness  in  love.  These  resemblances 
are  sufficient  to  show  Douglas’s  familiarity  with  one,  at 
least,  of  the  works  of  his  predecessor.  But  the  deference 
with  which  he  regards  him  exhibits  itself  most  signally 
in  the  remarks  he  ventures  to  make  in  the  most  approved 
style  of  obtuse  criticism  in  the  prologue  to  his  trans- 
lation of  the  first  book  of  the  ^neid.  He  represents 
Chaucer  as  having  said  in  his  ‘ Legend  of  Good  Women’ 
that  he  would  follow  Virgil  word  by  word  in  his  account 


22 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


of  Dido.  This  he  had  not  done,  and  thereby  the  prince 
of  poets  had  been  greatly  grieved.  For  his  conduct  in 
this  matter  Douglas  took  Chaucer  to  task  for  presump- 
tion. But  he  did  it  with  bated  breath,  and  with  the  evi- 
dent consciousness  that  he  was  exhibiting,  and  would  be 
looked  upon  as  exhibiting,  great  presumption  himself. 
He  was  certainly  exhibiting  gross  misapprehension,  for 
Chaucer  said  nothing  of  the  sort  with  which  he  was 
charged.  The  criticism  has  on  that  very  account  an  in- 
terest of  its  own,  for  it  shows  that  the  custom  of  imput- 
ing to  the  author  as  an  error  the  results  of  the  censor’s 
own  muddleheadedness  of  comprehension  has  for  itself 
the  sanction  of  venerable  antiquity.  But  its  marked 
characteristic  is  the  anxiety  that  Douglas  manifests  to 
convince  his  readers  that  he  does  not  utter  his  censure 
for  offence,”  and  the  care  he  takes  to  assure  them  that 
he  regarded  himself  as  altogether  inferior  to  the  poet 
with  whom  he  ventures  in  this  instance  to  find  fault.  It 
is  clear  from  his  words  that  Chaucer  had  in  Scotland  a 
body  of  adherents  with  whom  no  author  felt  it  desirable 
to  come  into  collision.  The  deferential  tone  he  exhibits 
towards  him,  even  in  censuring  him,  is  made  the  more 
striking  by  its  contrast  with  the  vigorous  way  in  which 
he  speaks  of  Caxton.  Him  he  abuses  without  stint  for 
the  variations  from  Virgil  found  in  his  ‘Troy  Book.’ 
The  language  actually  breaks  down  under  his  inability 
to  express  satisfactorily  and  sufficiently  the  indignation 
and  disgust  he  feels. 

When  we  come  to  the  English  writers  of  the  fifteenth 
century  we  find  this  same  pre-eminence  of  Chaucer  as 
unanimously  and  ungrudgingly  accorded.  His  immedi- 


POPULARITY  IN  THE  FIFTEENTH  CENTURY  23 


ate  successors,  who  were  at  the  same  time  his  contem- 
poraries, are  Dccleve  and  Lydgate.  The  words  of  these 
two,  in  speaking  of  him,  are  particularly  deserving  of  at- 
tention because  they  are  the  words  of  men  to  whom  he 
was  known  personally  as  well  as  by  his  writings.  We 
p^et  from  them  more  than  a mere  critical  view  of  the  es- 

o 

timation  in  which  his  works  were  held.  They  give  the 
impression  that  as  a man  he  inspired  not  only  admiration, 
but  a feeling  of  personal  devotion  on  the  part  of  those 
with  whom  he  came  in  close  contact.  It  is  evident,  in- 
deed, from  Lydgate’s  words  in  his  ‘Troy  Book,’  that  he 
was  particularly  kind  and  considerate  towards  young 
poets;'  a fact,  however,  which,  if  we  judge  from  the 
pieces  of  the  period  that  have  survived,  furnishes  matter 
for  regret  rather  than  for  rejoicing.  To  me  the  notices  of 
Chaucer  are  the  only  parts  of  the  writings  of  both  these 
authors  that  deserve  much  attention.  If  this  opinion  be 
thought  unjust,  it  is  just  to  say  that  it  does  no  more  than 
extend  to  the  two  a critical  estimate  which  is  taken  by 
most  persons  of  the  one. 

Occleve  is  a writer  who  has  been  contemptuously 
treated  even  by  those  who  speak  respectfully  of  Lyd- 
gate. Many  of  his  works*  have  not  been  printed.  Of 
those  which  have  been,  it  must  be  confessed  that  they 
are  generally  works  which  it  requires  dogged  resolution 
to  read.  Even  this  is  not  likely  to  hold  out,  unless 

* “For  he  that  was  ground  of  well  saying, 

In  all  his  life,  hindered  no  making. 

My  master  Chaucer,  that  found  full  many  spot, 

Him  list  not  pinch  nor  grucche  at  every  blot  ; 

Nor  meve  himself  to  perturbe  his  rest, 

I have  heard  told,  but  said  alway  the  best  ; 

Suffering  goodly  of  his  gentleness 

Full  many  thing  embraced  with  rudeness.” 


24  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

some  other  end  in  view  exists  than  familiarity  with  his 
writings  for  their  own  sake.  Still,  Occleve  has  a cer- 
tain claim  upon  our  respect  which  has  never  been  ade- 
quately acknowledged.  His  reputation  has  suffered  from 
his  candor.  He  had  sense  enough  and  taste  enough  to 
see  the  immense  distance  between  himself  and  Chau- 
cer, and  to  appreciate  the  excellence  of  the  master. 
But  he  lacked  the  wisdom  to  keep  his  knowledge  to 
himself.  In  a passage  which  is  one  of  several  that  show 
the  kindness  which  the  great  poet  displayed  towards 
his  inferiors,  Occleve  honestly  admitted  his  own  inca- 
pacity to  profit  by  the  instruction  he  received.  As  he 
says, 

“ My  deare  master,  God  his  soule  quite. 

And  father  Chaucer  fain  would  me  have  taught. 

But  I was  dull  and  learnede  right  naught.” 

The  world,  which  is  very  apt  to  rate  a man  at  his  own 
valuation,  took  Occleve  at  his  word.  In  so  doing  it 
treated  him  with  justice  in  one  way,  and  with  injustice 
in  another.  It  is  common  enough  to  be  dull.  What 
is  uncommon  is  the  ability  to  perceive  it  in  one’s  self, 
and  the  willingness  to  admit  it.  There  is  no  doubt  that 
he  showed  good  sense  in  thinking  meanly  of  his  own 
performances.  Most  of  his  poems  that  have  been  print- 
ed are  anything  but  poetical.  The  ‘ Letter  of  Cupid,’ 
found  in  the  folio  editions  of  Chaucer,  is  tedious  beyond 
description.  Six  of  his  better  poems  were  published  by 
George  Mason  in  1796.  Among  these  are  one  or  two 
that  have  a distinct  intellectual  quality  of  their  own. 
There  are  in  them  not  only  occasional  gleams  of  wit, 
but  a mastery  of  melody  is  also  displayed  which  was 


OCCLEVE 


25 


uncommon  in  that  age,  and  which  is  not  visible  in  most 
of  Occleve’s  other  work,  at  least  of  that  printed.  Both 
of  these  things  are  true  of  ‘ The  Misrule,’  the  first  poem 
in  the  collection.  Those  who  think  this  praise  too  high 
may  take  in  preference  Ritson’s  criticism,  made  in  1802, 
in  the  course  of  his  description  of  the  manuscript  in 
which  these  pieces  are  found.  “ Six  of  peculiar  stupid- 
ity,” he  remarked,  “ were  selected  and  published  by  its 
late  owner.”  ^ Could  we  be  certain  that  the  orison  to 
the  Virgin  which  begins  with  the  words  “ Mother  of  God 
and  Virgin  undefouled”  were  a composition  of  Occleve’s, 
and  not  a copy  by  him  of  one  of  his  master’s,  we  should 
be  justified  in  according  him  a higher  poetical  ability 
than  could  be  conceded  him  for  all  his  other  published 
productions  put  together.  Its  superiority,  indeed,  to  the 
rest  of  his  work  is  so  marked  that  it  is  difficult  for  that 
very  reason  to  regard  it  as  his  ; and  while  it  could  not 
be  looked  upon  as  one  of  Chaucer’s  most  successful 
achievements,  it  is  not  unworthy  of  his  powers. 

In  the  frank  admission  that  he  was  dull  lay  Occleve’s 
moral  superiority  to  his  better-known  contemporary, 
and  perhaps  his  superiority  in  intellectual  discernment. 
Lydgate  was  dull,  and  he  probably  never  knew  it.  He 
certainly  never  told  of  it,  if  he  did  know  it.  The  wise 
reticence  he  displayed  in  refraining  to  commit  himself 
upon  the  point  to  his  own  disadvantage  has  been  re- 
warded a hundred-fold.  He  was  long  accepted,  and  is 
even  now  occasionally  accepted,  at  a valuation  which 
was  put  upon  him  at  a period  when  there  was  not  a 
sufficient  quantity  of  literature  in  the  language  to  make 

^ Ritson’s  Bibliogmphia  Poetica,  p.  63. 


26 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


men  very  discriminating  about  its  quality.  I am  aware 
that  he  was  spoken  of  respectfully  by  a man  of  genius 
such  as  was  Gray,  and  was  not  disrespectfully  spoken 
of  by  a woman  of  genius  such  as  was  Mrs.  Browning. 
It  only  proves  that,  in  spite  of  the  dictum  of  Horace, 
there  are  middling  verses  which  the  immortals  do  not 
despise.  Gray,  moreover,  somewhat  like  Warton,  his 
successor  in  these  literary  investigations,  was,  to  a cer- 
tain extent,  an  explorer.  Both  of  them,  accordingly,  in 
their  comments  upon  early  authors,  adopted  uncon- 
sciously the  explorer's  habit  of  exaggeration,  just  as 
the  first  voyagers  to  the  New  World  brought  back  mar- 
vellous stories  of  fountains  of  perpetual  youth,  and  El 
Dorados  abounding  in  gold  and  silver  and  precious 
stones.  This  will  explain,  to  some  extent,  the  compara- 
tively high  estimate  they  expressed  of  the  productions 
of  Lydgate.  It  is  not  necessary  to  go  to  the  length  of 
the  fierce  antiquary  Ritson,  who,  in  his  usual  amiable 
way,  styles  him  in  one  place  ‘‘  a most  prolix  and  volu- 
minous poetaster,”  and  in  another  “ a voluminous,  pro- 
saic, and  drivelling  monk,”  in  the  comments  he  made 
upon  the  elaborate  drawlings,”  as  he  terms  them,  of 
this  writer.^  After  giving  the  titles  of  some  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  pieces  and  works  attributed  to  Lydgate, 
he  added,  genially,  that  “ these  stupid  and  fatiguing  pro- 
ductions, which  by  no  means  deserve  the  name  of  poet- 
ry, and  their  still  more  stupid  and  disgusting  author, 
who  disgraces  the  name  and  patronage  of  his  master 

Chaucer,  are  neither  worth  collecting  * * * nor  even 

>> 

worthy  of  preservation.^  Even  those  who  might  dis- 

^ Ritson’s  Bibliographia  Foetica,  pp.  66  and  87.  ^ Ib.,  p.  88. 


LYDGATE 


27 


pute  Ritson’s  views  on  other  points,  will  not  deny  that 
Lydgate  was  voluminous.  There  was  apparently  no 
topic  upon  which  he  was  not  ready  to  express  himself 
at  a moment’s  notice.  He  produced,  in  consequence, 
a good  deal  of  matter  which  it  presumably  gratified  him 
to  write ; though  it  seems  inconceivable  that  there  was 
ever  a state  of  the  human  intellect  in  which  gratifica- 
tion could  have  come  to  any  one  from  its  perusal.  In 
his  versification  there  is  no  harmony,  no  regular  move- 
ment. In  his  expression,  he  had  gained  facility  at  the 
expense  of  felicity.  He  is  one  of  those  noted,  or  rather 
notorious,  authors  whose  fame,  such  as  it  is,  rests  not 
upon  their  own  achievements,  but  upon  the  kindness 
with  which  others  have  been  induced  to  look  upon  their 
achievements.  There  is,  accordingly,  no  necessity  of 
reading  his  works  resting  upon  any  one  save  him  who 
has  to  make  a professional  study  of  English  literature. 
For  this  unfortunate  being  the  dead  past,  so  far  from 
being  able  to  bury  its  dead,  is  not  even  able  to  bury  its 
bores. 

To  so  much  of  mention  these  writers  are  entitled,  be- 
cause their  names  appear  frequently  associated  with  that 
of  their  great  master.  But  no  account  of  Chaucer  could 
possibly  be  considered  complete  that  did  not  quote,  or 
at  least  refer,  to  the  remark  that  he  resembled  a sunny 
day  in  an  English  spring ; after  the  visionary  prospect 
of  a speedy  summer  has  gone  the  gloom  of  winter  re- 
turns, and  the  buds  and  blossoms  called  forth  by  tem- 
porary warmth  are  nipped  by  frosts  or  torn  by  tem- 
pests. The  mediocrity  of  Occleve  and  Lydgate  naturally 
brings  us  to  the  proper  place  for  putting  this  observa- 


28 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


tion  upon  record.  It  was  first  made  by  Warton,  in  his 
‘ History  of  English  Poetry.’  It  has  been  faithfully  re- 
peated by  every  one  since  who  has  had  anything  to 
say  of  the  relation  of  the  poet  to  our  literature.  In 
deference  to  a habit  so  thoroughly  established,  I like- 
wise reproduce  the  comparison ; for  at  this  late  day  it 
would  be  ungracious  to  sever  what  time  and  custom 
have  so  long  joined  together.  A similar  statement 
would  doubtless  hold  true  of  several  other  poets  in 
several  other  lands.  It  is  not  unreasonable  to  believe 
that  a remark  of  the  same  general  nature  may  have 
fallen  from  the  lips  of  the  Athenian  of  the  age  of  Peri- 
cles as  he  contemplated  the  long  interval  of  time  that 
elapsed  between  the  death  of  Homer  and  the  appear- 
ance of  any  one  who,  with  any  propriety,  could  be  said 
to  have  inherited  anything  of  his  genius.  Still,  the  ob- 
servation is  just  in  the  case  of  our  own  great  early  poet, 
even  if  it  also  can  be  held  to  record  the  general  experi- 
ence of  the  race.  Chaucer,  it  is  certain,  left  no  inheri- 
tors of  his  power  or  of  his  literary  position.  That  his 
genius  should  have  died  with  him  is  not  so  strange  ; 
but  even  the  secret  of  his  metrical  skill  seems  to  have 
been  lost  by  his  immediate  successors.  The  followers 
of  Pope  equalled  Pope  in  harmony,  though  they  never 
anywhere  approached  his  incisive  utterance  or  his  brill- 
iant wit.  But  with  Chaucer  died,  for  a time,  not  only 
the  beauty  of  poetry,  but  the  beauty  of  versification. 
Not  to  the  mastery  of  that  almost  purely  mechanical 
process  did  the  men  of  his  school  attain.  The  lines  of 
Lydgate  and  Occleve  are  frequently  rugged.  They  are 
rugged,  too,  in  a way  for  which  the  scribe,  the  scape-goat 


STERILITY  OF  THE  FIFTEENTH  CENTURY  29 


of  the  ancient  author’s  sins,  cannot  be  held  responsible. 

'The  fifteenth  century  seems  to  have  been  stricken  with 
sterility  in  every  quarter  that  indicates  literary  ability 
of  any  sort.  Certainly  this  is  true  of  the  writers  whose 
names  it  has  left  us;  for  it  is  a singular  fact  that  the 
anonymous  productions  of  that  age  exceed  those  of  the 
authors  of  repute  in  everything  which  makes  poetry 
readable,  not  to  say  endurable.  The  composers  of  ‘The 
Flower  and  the  Leaf’  and  of  ‘The  Cuckoo  and  the 
Nightingale,’  whoever  they  were,  have  left  us  in  those 
productions  something  that  far  surpasses  anything  that 
came  from  the  pen  of  Occleve,  Lydgate,  or  any  of  the 
sixty  other  authors  whose  names  have  been  collected 
and  whose  writings  have  been  registered  by  the  inde- 
fatigable Ritson.  Whatever  poetic  power  existed  in 
the  fifteenth  century,  it  made  no  effort  to  hand  down 
the  name  of  its  possessor.  Even  at  its  very  close,  the 
anonymous  ballad  of  the  ‘Nut-Brown  Maid’  remains 
unrivalled  by  any  contemporary  work  which  can  point 
with  certainty  to  its  parentage. 

It  may  be  contended,  therefore,  that  the  supremacy 
of  Chaucer  during  the  fifteenth  century  was  a suprem- 
acy won  without  difficulfy  and  maintained  without 
competition  ; that  this,  at  least,  was  true  so  far  as  the 
English  poets  whose  names  have  been  preserved  come 
under  consideration.  Most  of  these  have  to  us  hardly 
even  the  unsubstantial  nature  of  shadows.  What  they 
wrote,  so  far  from  representing  what  any  one  has  read, 
does  not  generally  represent  anything  of  which  any  one 
has  heard.  It  must  assuredly  be  conceded  that  there 
is  no  one  of  this  time  with  whom  his  reputation  has  to 


30  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

dread  rivalry,  even  remotely.  He  left  in  England  no 
school  of  poets  who  had  the  ability  to  carry  on  the  ' 
work  he  had  begun.  It  was  inevitable  that  his  excel- 
lence should  dwarf  the  feeble  efforts  of  his  imitators  ; 
but  these  would  have  seemed  feeble  even  had  nothing 
of  his  survived  to  furnish  a standard  of  comparison. 
The  result  of  this  literary  degeneracy  was  that  for  a 
long  period  he  was  regarded  not  merely  as  the  chief 
poet  of  Britain,  but  as  the  only  one.  The  fact  of  his  un- 
disputed pre-eminence  cannot  be  gainsaid.  It  w’as  as 
apparent  to  the  men  of  that  time  as  it  is  now  to  us. 
The  sentiment  generally  entertained  was  expressed  by 
Caxton  at  the  close  of  his  edition  of  the  ‘ House  of 
Fame,’  which  he  printed  about  1483.  “ In  all  his  works,” 
he  wrote,  “ he  excelleth,  in  mine  opinion,  all  other  writ- 
ers in  our  English.  For  he  writeth  no  void  words:  but 
all  his  matter  is  full  of  high  and  quick  sentence,  to 
whom  ought  to  be  given  laud  and  praising  for  his  noble 
making  and  writing.  For  of  him  all  other  have  bor- 
rowed sith,  and  taken  in  all  their  well-saying  and  writ- 
ing.” 

To  the  statement  just  made  it  may  be  that  some  stu- 
dents of  our  literature  may  be  led  to  take  exception. 
Against  the  universal  recognition  of  Chaucer’s  suprem- 
acy one  circumstance  will  seem  to  militate.  There  is 
one  particular  ingredient  in  the  judgment  passed  upon 
the  early  poet  during  a large  part  of  the  fifteenth  and 
sixteenth  centuries  that  sensibly  allays  the  satisfaction 
with  which  the  historian  of  literature  may  regard  the 
tributes  paid  to  his  genius.  This  is  the  fact  that  he 
is  very  constantly  associated  with  Gower  and  Lydgate. 


MENTIONED  WITH  GOWER  AND  LYDGATE  31 

Sometimes  it  is  with  no  perceptible  difference  in  the  com- 
mendation. 'If  this  does  not  detract  from  the  sincerity 
of  the  admiration,  it  does  from  the  competence  of  the 
taste  that  feels  it  and  of  the  judgment  that  expresses  it. 
Still,  it  is  easy  to  attach  an  undue  importance  to  this 
conjunction  of  names.  It  resulted  from  the  accident  of 
circumstance  rather  than  from  any  disposition  to  regard 
the  three  as  being  on  the  same  literary  level.  They 
lived  at  about  the  same  period.  They  were  the  only 
writers  of  their  time  whose  works  were  read  at  all.  It 
was  therefore  natural  that  they  should  be  mentioned 
together.  So  to  do  became,  indeed,  a sort  of  literary 
habit.  It  ordinarily  meant  no  more  than  much  of  the 
notice  which  Chaucer  himself  received  two  centuries 
later.  It  was  a matter  of  courtesy  to  make  the  usual 
polite  remarks  about  Gower  and  Lydgate  whenever 
there  was  any  occasion  for  referring  to  the  early  writ- 
ers with  whom  their  successors  dated  the  beginning  of 
English  literature.  To  mention  them  came  soon  to 
be  in  conformity  with  all  well-established  precedents. 
To  mention  them  respectfully  brought  to  the  speaker 
the  gratifying  consciousness  that  he  had  said  both 
v/hat  he  ought  to  say  and  what  he  was  expected  to 
say. 

While  this  is  assuredly  the  true  explanation  of  most 
of  the  references  to  the  two  poets,  it  need  not  be  denied 
that  there  were  instances  where  the  praise  bestowed 
upon  Gower  and  Lydgate  was  as  hearty  and  sincere  as 
that  given  to  Chaucer.  Of  this  fact  we  have  a notable 
illustration  in  the  early  part  of  the  sixteenth  century. 
There  was  one  man  to  whom  Chaucer’s  disciple  was 


32 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


more  of  an  inspiration  than  Chaucer  himself.  This  was 
Stephen  Hawes.  In  his  ‘ Pastime  of  Pleasure/  first 
printed  in  1509,  he  notices  with  praise  several  of  the 
great  poet’s  works. ^ These  are  the  ‘ Canterbury  Tales/ 
the  ‘ House  of  Fame/  the  ‘ Legend  of  Good  Women/ 
and  ‘Troilus  and  Cressida.’  He  also  pays  the  custom- 
ary tribute  to  Gower.  But  it  is  for  Lydgate  that  he  re- 
serves his  greatest  enthusiasm  and  his  choicest  epithets.^ 
Again  and  again  he  affectionately  terms  him  his  master. 
Upon  his  greatness  his  mind  dwells  fondly.  He  is  de- 
scribed as  “ the  most  dulcet  spring  of  famous  rheto- 
ric.”^ He  is,  Hawes  is  particular  to  tell  us,  “the  chief 
original  of  my  learning.”^  The  admiration  of  a dull 
man  by  one  still  duller  is  not  a circumstance  to  excite 
surprise  or  even  remark.  The  only  objectionable  feature 
connected  with  it  in  this  case,  if  there  be  any,  is  that 
Chaucer  should  have  also  a share  in  the  appreciation 
which  this  author  was  capable  of  feeling.  For  his  praise 
was  not  of  a kind  to  make  the  recipient  proud.  To  the 
general  reader  Hawes  and  his  works  are  unknown; 
known  he  is,  in  fact,  only  to  the  antiquary.  It  must 
be  admitted  that  the  general  reader  has  the  best  of  it. 
The  ‘ Pastime  of  Pleasure,’  of  which  mention  has  just 
been  made,  has  certainly  one  of  the  most  misleading 
titles  to  be  found  in  English  literature.  The  trivial  and 
the  careless,  least  of  all,  need  delude  themselves  with  the 
fancy  that  it  Avas  for  them  the  work  was  designed.  It 
provides  just  the  sort  of  pastime  and  furnishes  just  the 
degree  of  pleasure  that  might  be  expected  from  one 

^ See  pp.  53,  71,  137,  etc.,  of  Percy  ^ Ib.,  pp.  46,  54,  56,  220. 

Society  edition.  ^ Ib.,  p.  55.  Ib.,  p.  55. 


POPULARITY  IN  THE  SIXTEENTH  CENTURY  33 

who  looked  upon  Lydgate  as  his  master  and  took  him 
for  his  model/ 

With  the  introduction  of  printing  into  England,  we 
are  at  once  upon  firmer  ground  for  testing  Chaucer’s 
popularity.  The  evidence  now  to  be  given  is  of  the 
most  unimpeachable  character.  Two  editions  of  the 
‘Canterbury  Tales  ’ were  published  by  Caxton.  Before 
the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century  three  more  of  the  same 
work  followed  from  the  presses  of  his  successors,  Wyn- 
ken  de  Worde  and  Pynson.  Five  large  folio  editions  of 
his  greatest  work  within  a space  of  less  than  twenty-five 
years  are  sufficient  to  show  that  his  fame  had  undergone 
no  diminution  in  the  century  that  had  passed  since  hist- 
death.  Nor  does  the  list  just  given  exhaust  all  the  testi-^ 
mony  of  this  nature.  Many  of  the  minor  pieces  were 
also  printed,  several  of  them  several'  times.  They  were 
printed  not  only  in  England,  but  in  Scotland.  Three 
editions  of  the  ‘Troilus  and  Cressida’  came  out  before 
it  was  included  in  the  folio  of  1532,  which  first  contained 
the  poet’s  collected  works.  There  is  no  English  writer 
either  at  that  time  or  for  a long  period  after  who  can 
point  to  such  a record.  Nor  did  the  demand  for  Chau- 
cer’s productions  cease  during  the  course  of  the  six- 
teenth century.  It  increased  rather  than  diminished 
with  the  apparently  liberal  supply  already  furnished. 
Between  1532  and  1 561,  inclusive,  a period  of  less  than 
thirty  years,  in  addition  to  the  volumes  of  the  separate 
poems  already  in  circulation,  the  readers  of  that  day 
were  able  to  absorb  four  editions  of  his  complete  works. 
This  simple  bibliographical  fact  is  a proof  of  his  popu- 
larity which  outweighs  in  the  value  of  its  testimony  any- 
III.-3 


34  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

thing  and  everything  that  can  be  drawn  from  the  purely 
literary  sources  of  the  time,  or  that  could  be  drawn  from 
them  were  they  as  abundant  as  they  are  actually  scanty. 
For  these  folios  were  bulky  volumes,  which  it  required 
money  to  buy  as  well  as  strength  to  handle.  At  that 
time,  too,  the  population  of  England  was  comparatively 
small.  Of  that  small  population  the  reading  public  was 
comparatively  limited.  We  must  come  to  very  modern 
times  before  anything  approaching  this  popularity  can 
be  predicated  of  any  poet. 

It  can  undoubtedly  be  conceded  that  something  of 
the  interest  taken  in  Chaucer  during  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury was  not  a legitimate  literary  interest.  It  was  due 
to  causes  quite  distinct  from  those  which  had  given  him 
his  previous  popularity.  I have  pointed  out  in  a pre- 
ceding chapter  that  he  at  that  time  gained  repute  for 
reasons  of  which  he  himself  could  hardly  have  dreamed, 
and  that  he  was  credited  with  a character  at  which  he 
would  have  been  the  first  to  smile.*  It  was  not  always 
the  poet  that  was  admired  so  much  as  the  supposed  re- 
former. Not  for  the  beauty  of  his  verse,  but  for  the 
keenness  of  his*  satire  and  the  exposure  of  the  rotten- 
ness of  the  religious  life  of  his  time,  did  he  become  a 
favorite  of  the  fierce  Puritan  element  that  saw  in  the 
papal  church  the  mystic  Babylon  foretold  in  Apoca- 
lyptic vision,  which  sat  upon  the  seven  hills,  and  was 
drunk  with  the  blood  of  the  saints.  To  denounce  that 
church  was  a duty.  To  be  thought  to  have  early  de- 
nounced it  entitled  one  to  a place  among  the  forerun- 
ners of  the  Reformation.  The  ascription  to  Chaucer  of 


‘ See  vol.  ii.,  p.  463. 


POPULARITY  WITH  THE  PURITANS  35 

the  spurious  ‘Plowman’s  Tale’  gave  the  seal  of  cer- 
tainty to  the'  belief  about  him  which  men  were  predis- 
posed to  hold.  After  that  production  was  regularly  en- 
rolled among  his  genuine  works  in  the  edition  of  1542, 
the  members  of  the  Roman  Catholic  party  were  placed 
at  a disadvantage,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned.  It  ap- 
parently never  occurred  to  them  to  question  the  genu- 
ineness of  the  poem.  All  that  was  left,  therefore,  was 
to  maintain  a discreet  silence  about  it,  and  about  the 
religious  views  of  its  author. 

Not  so  the  Protestants.  They  were  careful  to  bring 
him  forward  as  one  of  their  champions.  We  can  see  the 
sort  of  contest  that  raged  about  Chaucer’s  name  in  the 
account  of  his  life  as  found  in  the  respective  collections 
of  Bale  and  Pits.  Almost  the  only  addition  that  the 
former  made  to  Poland’s  biography  was  a sentence  in- 
dicative of  the  poet’s  hostile  attitude  towards  the  church 
of  Rome.  After  giving  a list  of  his  works.  Bale  went  on 
to  say  that  he  also  “ wrote  many  other  things,  in  which 
he  spoke  with  little  approval  of  the  idle  life  of  the 
monks,  the  exceeding  multitude  of  masses,  the  incom- 
prehensible canonical  hours,  relics,  pilgrimages  and  cere- 
monies.”' To  counteract  the  injurious  attacks  made  by 
Bale  upon  the  Roman  Catholic  clergy  was  the  main 
cause  which  led  Pits  to  prepare  his  account  of  English 
writers.  This  is  explicitly  asserted  by  William  Bishop, 
who  contributed  the  dedicatory  preface  to  the  volume, 
which  was  published  after  the  author’s  death.  He  in- 

^ “ Aliaque  plura  fecit,  in  quibus  intellectas,  reliquias,  perigrinationes 
monachorum  ocia,  missantium  tarn  ac  caerimonias  parum  probavit.” 
magnam  multitudinem,  boras  non 


36  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

forms  us  that  Leland’s  work  had  been  satisfactory,  so 
far  as  it  went.  It  seems,  however,  that  some  hell  had 
vomited  up  a certain  apostate  called  Bale,  easily  to  be 
recognized  by  his  name  as  a servant  of  the  idol  Baal. 
This  man  had  gone  about  inveighing  against  the  great- 
est popes  and  the  most  holy  men.  He  had  aspersed 
their  lives,  and  had  cast  contumely  upon  their  writings. 
To  vindicate  the  ancient  glory  of  these  authors,  and  to 
keep  the  pestilent  work  of  Bale  out  of  the  hands  of  the 
faithful,  was  the  object  Pits  set  out  to  accomplish.  But 
while  his  professed  aim  was  to  clear  English  writers  from 
the  foul  calumnies  cast  upon  them  in  the  work  he  was 
seeking  to  replace,  it  is  noticeable  that  in  the  case  of 
Chaucer  he  contented  himself  with  merely  omitting  the 
added  statement  of  Bale.  He  does  not  contradict  it. 
Nor  does  he  venture  to  deny  the  genuineness  of  the 
‘ Plowman’s  Tale,’  or  make  any  effort  to  defend  the  poet 
from  the  charge  of  having  attacked  the  superstitious 
practices  of  the  Roman  church.  In  so  doing,  or  rather 
in  so  not  doing,  he  followed  the  usual  course  of  silence. 
But  silence  practically  amounted  to  a confession  that  no 
defence  could  be  maintained.  The  result  was  that  Chau- 
cer continued  to  be  enrolled  without  protest  among  the 
forerunners  of  the  Reformation. 

This  admiration  of  the  poet,  which  had  its  origin  in 
the  belief  of  his  being  a Reformer,  undoubtedly  added 
largely  to  his  popularity  with  the  iconoclasts  of  the  six- 
teenth century.  The  feeling  extended  to  their  descend- 
ants, who,  in  their  zeal  to  extirpate  everything  that  sa- 
vored of  Baal,  as  they  regarded  the  papacy,  overturned 
finally  the  church  that  was  suspected  of  leaning  towards 


POPULARITY  WITH  THE  PURITANS  37 

it  and  the  government  that  was  supposed  to  sympathize 
with  the  Romanizing  tendencies  of  the  church,  and  fur- 
nished England,  in  consequence,  for  two  centuries  with  a 
not  altogether  savory  royal  martyr.  Instances  of  this 
admiration  crop  out  sometimes  in  the  most  unexpected 
quarters.  Milton’s  acquaintance  with  his  great  prede- 
cessor might  have  been  safely  assumed,  even  had  he 
never  written  a line  in  which  his  name  was  mentioned. 
But  Chaucer  continued  a favorite  of  many  of  the  rank 
and  file  of  the  educated  class  that  were  attached  to  the 
Puritan  party.  In  the  very  midst  of  the  civil  war  we 
find  a curious  correspondence  going  on  between  a Par- 
liamentary officer  and  the  poet  Cleveland,  who  was  act- 
ing at  the  time  as  judge  advocate  of  the  royalist  garrison 
at  Newark.  In  it  each  amiably  endeavored  to  insult  the 
other  as  far  as  was  consistent  with  true  politeness.  In 
the  course  of  the  correspondence  the  Parliamentary  offi- 
cer draws  one  of  his  illustrations  from  Chaucer’s  writings. 
He  makes  mention  of  the  Friar  who  pretended  to  cure 
souls  with  the  shoulder-bone  of  one  of  the  lost  sheep. ^ 
The  reference  was  in  several  ways  a mistaken  one.  It 
attributed,  in  particular,  to  the  Friar  what  should  have 
been  given  to  the  Pardoner.  But  in  the  midst  of  mili- 
tary operations  one  can  hardly  be  expected  to  carry 
about  with  him  a heavy  folio  to  refresh  his  memory  and 
to  verify  quotations.  It  is  not  that  such  a reference  to 
Chaucer’s  works  is  inaccurate  which  should  excite  sur- 
prise ; it  is  that  it  should  have  ever  been  made  at  all. 

Theology,  like  misery,  makes  us  acquainted  with 
strange  bedfellows.  To  modern  eyes  there  is  some- 


^ Cleveland’s  Poems  (1665),  p.  207. 


38  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

thing  almost  grotesque  in  the  fact  that  Chaucer  should 
have  been  a favorite  of  the  adherents  of  the  stern  creed 
of  Calvin,  who,  not  content  with  hating  impurity,  frowned 
upon  pleasure.  For  if  we  accept  Heine’s  distinction  of 
the  two  great  opposing  forces  in  modern  civilization, 
none  have  been  more  conspicuously  the  representatives 
of  the  Hebraic  element  than  the  Puritans  of  the  sixteenth 
century.  In  them  both  its  best  and  its  worst  aspects  are 
to  be  found  exemplified.  On  the  other  hand,  of  all  the 
English  poets  no  one  is  so  fully  the  representative  of  the 
Hellenic  element  as  Chaucer.  No  one  has  felt  more 
keenly  than  he,  and  expressed  more  vividly,  the  joy  of 
life  as  life.  In  him,  too,  can  be  recognized  the  Hellenic 
clearness  of  vision  which  saw  human  nature  exactly  as 
it  was,  and  did  not  lack  the  courage  to  depict  it.  Equally 
in  him  can  be  found  its  freedom  from  excitement  and 
passion  which  to  many  seems  freedom  from  earnestness. 
Nowhere,  indeed,  is  this  more  noticeable  than  in  the 
calmness  of  his  attitude  towards  the  religious  sentiment 
itself,  not  in  the  sense  of  being  indifferent  to  it,  but  in 
the  sense  of  looking  upon  it  as  one  of  many  forces  that 
influence  life  instead  of  embodying  the  one  supreme  ob- 
ject for  which  life  is  lived.  That  by  any  combination  of 
circumstances  the  serious  and  even  sombre  Puritan  ele- 
ment of  the  sixteenth  century  should  liave  come  to  re- 
gard the  poet  of  joyousness  and  gayety  and  chivalry  as 
a burning  and  shining  light  in  the  religious  world  is  one 
of  those  freaks  of  fancy  which  seem  always  happening 
as  if  designed  to  make  perfectly  clear  the  utter  empti- 
ness of  the  inferences  of  the  reason.  Still,  to  a great  ex- 
tent such  was  the  fact.  We  can  see,  therefore,  that  in 


POPULARITY  WITH  THE  PURITANS 


39 


the  case  of  many  it  was  not  a love  of  literature  that 
broiight  familiarity  with  Chaucer’s  writings,  but  admira- 
tion for  his  supposed  theology.  Least  of  all  was  it 
any  disposition  to  tolerate  impurity  that  led  to  their 
overlooking  what  may  have  seemed  objectionable,  or  to 
their  condoning  what  must  have  seemed  sinful.  They 
forgave  the  evil  for  the  sake  of  the  testimony  that  had 
been  borne  and  for  the  service  that  had  been  rendered 
in  the  exposure  of  the  corruptions  that  had  poisoned  the 
purity  of  the  primitive  faith.  If  this  way  of  judging  the* 
character  of  a man’s  work  be  erroneous,  it  is  by  no  means 
peculiar.  There  is  a supply  of  modern  illustrations  of 
the  same  method  of  proceeding  sufficiently  ample  to 
keep  the  Puritans  in  countenance.  So  long  as  Prot- 
estants of  the  nineteenth  century  are  enabled  to  look 
upon  Henry  VIII.  as  a reformer,  Protestants  of  the  six- 
teenth century  may  be  pardoned  for  treating  Chaucer  as 
a saint. 

Something  of  the  poet’s  repute  was  certainly  due  to 
this  source,  at  least  for  a limited  period.  To  suppose 
that  much  was  due  to  it  would  be  a great  error.  There 
is  evidence,  indeed,  that  Chaucer’s  writings  were  looked 
upon  coldly  by  men  of  that  class  to  whom  all  efforts  of 
the  creative  imagination  lack  what  they  are  pleased  to 
call  truth.  So  wide  was  his  popularity,  so  universal  was 
the  acquaintance  with  his  writings,  that  his  greatest  work 
came  early  to  be  almost  a synonym  for  fictitious  narra- 
tive of  any  sort.  As  such  it  would  naturally  fall  under 
the  ban  of  that  somewhat  dreary  body  of  men,  in  whom 
the  Anglo-Saxon  race  has  always  abounded,  who  look 
askance  upon  all  literature  which  deals  with  matters 


40  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

outside  of  the  region  of  figures  and  facts.  This  class, 
often  composed  of  good  men,  invariably  of  prosaic  men, 
did  not  escape  the  observation  of  Chaucer  himself.  He 
represents  as  belonging  to  it  his  Parson,  a man  morally 
of  a lofty  type  of  character,  but  plainly  marked  in  certain 
respects  by  intellectual  narrowness.  When  he  comes  to 
tell  his  story  he  informs  his  auditors  that  in  anything  he 
says  he  will  not  deviate  in  the  slightest  degree  from  the 
truth.  “ Fables  and  such  wretchedness’’  is  the  compre- 
hensive term  he  applies  to  everything  that  is  not  in  ac- 
cordance with  actual  fact.  Why  should  he  sow  chaff, 
he  asks,  when  it  is  in  his  power  to  sow  wheat  ? This  is 
the  spirit  with  which  he  introduces  his  own  didactic  and 
rather  dull  discourse.  It  is  a spirit  of  a precisely  similar 
nature  that  is  exhibited  in  the  famous  Retractation  ap- 
pended to  the  ‘ Canterbury  Tales.’  The  genuineness  of 
the  addition  can  only  be  conceded  on  the  assumption 
that  the  poet,  at  a period  of  life  when  physical  and  intel- 
lectual strength  were  failing,  had  fallen  under  the  influ- 
ence of  men  of  very  earnest  convictions  and  of  very  lim- 
ited ideas. 

If  Chaucer  could  put  into  the  mouth  of  one  of  his  own 
characters  a comment  that  implied  that  nearly  every- 
thing which  had  been  related  during  the  pilgrimage  was 
in  the  eyes  of  the  speaker  trivial,  where  it  was  not  worse, 
we  may  be  sure  that  criticism  of  the  same  kind  did  not 
die  out  in  the  centuries  that  followed.  Much  of  what 
he  wrote  would  have  been  ill-suited  to  the  taste  of  the 
men  who  were  engaged  in  the  theological  conflicts  of 
the  sixteenth  century.  That  work  of  this  nature  did 
fall  under  their  condemnation  is  clear  from  the  con- 


POPULARITY  WITH  THE  PURITANS 


41 


temptuous  way  in  which  a story,  especially  improbable, 
came  to  be  termed  a Canterbury  tale.  Here  again  the 
fury  of  religious  controversy  added  its  intensity  of  mean- 
ing to  an  estimate  which  was  based  primarily  upon  dul- 
ness  of  apprehension  and  incapacity  of  appreciation. 
With  the  primacy  of  Canterbury  the  papacy  was,  from 
the  nature  of  things,  largely  identified.  The  pilgrimage 
to  the  shrine  of  its  martyred  archbishop  had  been  the 
most  famous  of  all  while  England  remained  under  the 
sway  of  the  Roman  church.  It  was  natural  that  any 
phrase  which  disparaged  it  should  become  a popular 
one  with  the  reforming  party.  It  enabled  its  members 
to  fling  contempt  upon  the  side  they  hated  without  ap- 
pearing to  make  a direct  attack.  “ If  we  take  it,”  said 
Cranmer,  speaking  of  the  gospel,  for  a Canterbury  tale, 
why  do  we  not  refuse  it  ?”  ^ Language  of  this  kind — and 
it  is  but  one  instance  out  of  many — shows  decisively  the 
existence  of  a general  acquaintance  with  the  poet’s  great- 
est work.  But  it  likewise  gives  the  impression  that  to 
some  serious  souls  the  matter  it  contained  was  vanity, 
as  to  dull  souls  it  undoubtedly  was  vexation  of  spirit. 
Had  not  Chaucer’s  value  as  an  ally  come  early  to  be 
recognized,  it  is  not  improbable  that  many  of  the  voices 
which  blessed  his  memory  would  have  hastened  to  be- 
stow upon  it  some  vigorous  maledictions. 

It  is  not,  however,  to  the  men  who  were  taking  part 
in  the  stormy  religious  controversies  of  the  period  that 
we  are  to  look  for  genuine  appreciation  of  the  poet  as 
poet.  Fortunately,  we  do  not  need  to  look  to  them. 
The  recognized  superiority  of  Chaucer  down  to  the  end 

' Cranmer’s  Miscellaneous  Writings  and  Letters,  p.  198  (Parker  Society). 


42 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


of  the  sixteenth  century  can  be  easily  demonstrated  by 
an  appeal  to  sources  that  are  purely  literary.  It  re- 
mained undisputed,  although  the  effects  that  result  from 
the  changes  that  had  taken  place  in  the  language  had 
begun  to  operate.  These  necessarily  gave  to  all  that  he 
wrote  a sense  of  remoteness  and  strangeness,  and  to  some 
of  it  obscurity  and  even  incomprehensibility.  Still,  on 
the  part  of  the  greatest  men  of  letters  there  prevailed  a 
loyalty  to  his  memory  that  permitted  no  one  to  occupy 
a place  by  his  side.  In  the  ‘ Shepherd’s  Calendar,’  Chau- 
cer is  styled  “ the  god  of  shepherds,”  which  is  explained 
in  the  glossary  as  signifying  “ the  god  of  poets.”  The 
phrase,  after  its  appearance  in  this  work,  was  henceforth 
specifically  applied  to  him  by  the  critical  writers  of  the 
time.  He  is  so  termed  by  Webbe  in  his  ‘ Discourse  of 
English  Poetry,’  and  by  Meres  in  his  ‘ Palladis  Tamia.’ 
But  references  to  him  of  all  sorts  abound  in  the  sixteenth 
century.  They  embrace  numerous  names,  from  Ascham, 
who  about  the  middle  of  it  styles  Chaucer  the  English 
Homer,  to  Camden,  who  towards  the  end  of  it  uses  of 
him  the  same  phrase,  and  asserts  that  he  had  left  far  be- 
hind all  others  who  had  written  since.  Of  these  he  spoke 
with  unnecessary  asperity,  but  in  the  true  antiquarian 
spirit,  as  poetasters.  Besides  these  two  celebrated  schol- 
ars, the  early  poet  was  made  the  subject  of  panegyric  by 
a number  of  authors,  the  chief  claim  of  some  of  whom 
to  mention  now  is  that  they  mentioned  Chaucer  then. 
There  are  too  many  of  these  references  to  be  quoted, 
and  the  most  important  of  them  are  too  well  known  to 
need  quotation. 

There  is  one  man,  however,  whose  words  cannot  be 


ADMIRATION  EXPRESSED  BY  SPENSER 


43 


passed  over  without  attention.  This  was  Edmund  Spen- 
ser. For  the  influence  exerted  over  him  by  Chaucer,  and 
for  the  influence  exerted  by  him  over  others ; for  the 
loftiness  of  his  own  literary  position,  and  the  fulness  of 
his  acknowledgment  of  what  he  owed  to  his  predecessor, 
he  stands  in  a peculiar  relation  to  the  founder  of  English 
literature.  Of  all  the  admirers  of  the  early  poet  who 
flourished  at  that  period,  Spenser  was  the  most  emphatic 
in  his  praise.  Of  all  his  readers,  he  was  the  most  pro- 
foundly influenced  by  his  language  and  literary  methods. 
His  admiration  began  early.  It  continued  to  increase 
till  the  time  when,  expiring  in  wretchedness  and  want, 
his  dying  request  was  that  his  body  might  be  laid  by  the 
side  of  the  master  he  loved  and  honored.  The  epithet 
he  applied  to  him  in  his  first  work  has  already  been  given. 
But  there  are  many  other  passages  in  the  ‘ Shepherd’s 
Calendar’  in  which  he  gives  expression  to  his  feelings  of 
regard.  To  Tityrus,  as  he  uniformly  designates  his  pred- 
ecessor, he  acknowledges  that  he  owes  everything.  He 
it  was  who  had  first  taught  him  how  to  write.  He  it 
was  who  knew  best  of  all  how  to  bewail  the  woes  of  love. 
If  upon  him,  homely  shepherd  as  he  was,  some  portion 
of  that  mighty  spirit’s  poetic  inspiration  should  fall,  he 
soon  could  teach  trees  and  forests  to  sympathize  with 
sorrows  of  his  own. 

It  is  noticeable  that  in  the  passage  of  the  ‘ Shepherd’s 
Calendar’  in  which  Spenser  makes  the  fullest  admission 
of  the  obligations  he  was  under  to  his  predecessor,  he 
asserted  that  Chaucer’s  reputation  was  steadily  increas- 
ing. The  poet  was  gone,  he  tells  us.  Gone,  too,  was 
his  surpassing  skill. 


44  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

“ The  fame  whereof  doth  daily  greater  grow.” ' 

This  was  no  mere  language  of  compliment.  It  indicated 
a condition  of  things  in  exact  accordance  with  fact. 
The  ‘ Shepherd’s  Calendar’  appeared  in  1579.  that 
date,  the  authors  who  were  to  make  the  Elizabethan 
age  renowned  were  mostly  in  their  minority.  The 
drama,  the  great  national  literature  of  the  time,  had 
not  yet  emancipated  itself  from  the  bondage  of  ryme. 
Not  yet  had  Marlowe’s  ‘‘  mighty  line”  revealed  the  pos- 
sibilities that  lay  in  blank  verse.  Chaucer,  in  spite  of 
his  ill-understood  grammar,  his  misunderstood  versifi- 
cation, and  his  obsolete  words,  continued  yet  to  reign 
without  a rival.  In  the  general  intellectual  movement 
then  going  on  in  England,  interest  in  him  as  being  still 
far  its  greatest  author  naturally  increased  rather  than 
diminished.  The  difficulties  which  soon  afterwards  kept 
most  men  from  the  perusal  of  his  writings  acted  then 
rather  as  a stimulant  to  their  study.  * In  his  letter  of 
June,  1597,  the  dramatist  Beaumont  reminds  his  friend 
^ Speght  of  the  zeal  in  this  direction  that  had  prevailed 
during  their  university  life.  ‘‘And  here,”  he  writes,  “ I 
cannot  forget  to  remember  unto  you  those  ancient 
learned  men  of  our  time  in  Cambridge,  whose  diligence 
in  reading  of  his  works  themselves,  and  commending 
them  unto  others  of  the  younger  sort,  did  first  bring 
you  and  me  in  love  with  him ; and  one  of  them  at  that 
time,  and  all  his  life  after,  was  (as  you  know)  one  of  the 
^ rarest  men  for  learning  in  the  whole  world.” 

Spenser’s  direct  obligations  to  Chaucer  are  numerous. 
All  his  writings  show  intimate  acquaintance  with  those 


Shepherd's  Calendar,  June,  line  92. 


ADMIRATION  EXPRESSED  BY  SPENSER 


45 


of  his  predecessor.  In  the  extent  of  his  imitations,  and 
in  the  frequency  of  his  references  to  the  events  and 
personages  made  famous  by  the  elder  poet,  he  rivals 
the  Scotch  authors  of  whom  mention  has  already  been 
made.  He  attempted  a more  daring  experiment.  In  the 
fourth  book  of  the  ‘Fairy  Queen,’  he  ventured  to  add 
a conclusion  to  the  Squire’s  tale.  He  looked  upon  the 
poem  as  having  been  actually  completed  by  Chaucer. 
The  disappearance  of  the  original  ending  he  imputed 
to  the  ravages  of  time,  which  had  so  often  wrought 
ruin  to  the  “ works  of  heavenly  wits.”  The  task  of  re- 
storing the  conclusion,  which  he  fancied  lost,  was  some- 
thing beyond  the  achievement  of  his  powers,  great  as 
they  were.  A similar  attempt  was  made  before  his 
time,  and  some  have  been  made  sinc,e.  Where  Spenser 
failed,  it  is  vain  to  expect  others  to  succeed.  The  poem, 
like  the  unfinished  column  of  Aladdin’s  palace,  will 
remain  forever  as  it  was  deft  by  the  mighty  magician 
who  had  reared  the  stately  structure  which  none  but  he 
could  bring  to  perfection.  But  no  finer  tribute  has 
been  paid  to  any  poet  than  this  apologetic  verse  with 
which  Spenser  introduces  his  attempt : 

“ Then  pardon,  O most  sacred  happy  spirit ! 

That  I thy  labors  lost  may  thus  revive. 

And  steal  from  thee  the  meed  of  thy  due  merit. 

That  none  durst  ever  whilst  thou  wast  alive, 

And  being  dead  in  vain  yet  many  strive  : 

Ne  dare  I like  ; but  through  infusion  sweet 
Of  thine  own  spirit  which  doth  in  me  survive, 

I follow  here  the  footing  of  thy  feet. 

That  with  thy  meaning  so  I may  the  rather  meet.” 


46  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

Spenser’s  admiration  for  Chaucer,  combined  with  his 
own  pre-eminent  position  as  a poet,  exerted  for  a time 
a peculiar  influence  upon  versification  and  language. 
The  Elizabethan  age  is  to  us  above  everything  else  a 
creative  age.  For  that  very  reason  there  has  come 
largely  to  exist  an  impression  that  in  no  respect  was 
it  a critical  age.  The  general  idea  is  that  men  content- 
ed themiselves  with  doing  and  saying  great  things,  and 
left  it  to  the  art  of  later  times  to  describe  the  things 
they  did,  and  how  and  why  they  happened  so  to  do 
them.  But  this  is  limiting  our  attention  to  the  purely 
external  aspects  of  the  period.  It  entirely  hides  from 
us  the  view  of  much  of  its  inner  intellectual  life.  The 
literary  agitation  was  as  pronounced  as  the  political  or 
religious,  though  its  manifestations  naturally  do  not  ap- 
pear to  the  world  on  so  grand  a scale.  The  attempt  to 
confine  the  new  wine  of  what  we  should  call  romanticism 
in  the  old  classical  bottles  produced  just  the  same  vio- 
lent ferment  that  has  marked  the  history  of  many  later 
commotions  of  the  same  general  nature,  though  the 
controversies  to  which  they  then  gave  rise  have  received 
scant  notice  at  the  hands  of  critics  and  historians.  Upon 
nearly  every  question  men  at  that  time  were  drawn  up 
in  hostile  camps.  The  period  was  one  of  conflict,  al- 
most of  revolution.  Everything  was  untried  ; every- 
thing, therefore,  remained  to  be  tried.  In  a general  way, 
it  can  be  said  that  a battle  went  on  actively  between 
the  partisans  of  the  purely  classical  movement  and  the 
partisans  of  the  modern  movement  which  had  taken 
unto  itself  no  specific  name.  There  was  a time  when 
it  might  have  looked  to  a superficial  observer  as  if  the 


CONTROVERSIES  IN  THE  SIXTEENTH  CENTURY  47 

former  would  triumph.  The  human  mind  was  shaking 
off  the  trammels  of  ecclesiastical  and  political  servi- 
tude ; but  into  literary  servitude  it  seemed  bent  to  en- 
ter of  its  own  accord. 

This  tendency,  was  displayed  at  the  outset  in  the  great 
national  literature  of  the  time,  the  drama.  In  that  the 
contest  between  the  adherents  and  the  opponents  of  the 
doctrine  of  the  unities  was  as  earnest  and  even  as  viru- 
lent as  any  that  has  raged  since,  though  it  has  left  the 
record  of  its  strife  rather  in  chance  allusions  than  in 
controversial  pamphlets  bearing  directly  upon  the  sub- 
ject. Still,  Sidney  was  as  earnest  in  denouncing  the 
neglect  of  the  unities  of  time  and  place  as  he  was  in 
exposing  the  grossest  absurdities  that  had  then  found 
a home  upon  the  stage.  The  observance  of  them  was 
accepted  and  taught  by  Ben  Jonson  with  an  unreserved- 
ness that  would  have  satisfied  the  most  exacting  critic 
of  the  eighteenth  century.  In  practice  he  conformed 
to  his  theory  with  exceeding  precision,  so  far  as  his 
comedies  were  concerned.  There  can  be  little  ques- 
tion that  it  was  his  great  contemporary’s  general  dis- 
regard of  the  unities  to  which  he  referred  when  he 
told  Drummond  of  Hawthornden  that  Shakspeare 
wanted  art.  That  the  supremest  of  dramatic  poets 
deliberately  emancipated  himself  from  their  tyranny 
is  made  certain  by  the  fact  that  at  times  he  as  de- 
liberately submitted  to  it.  He  could  have  been  nei- 
ther unacquainted  with  nor  indifferent  to  a question 
the  merits  of  which  he  must  have  heard  discussed  daily. 
It  was  not  ignorance  or  carelessness,  therefore,  that 
led  him  to  reject  in  his  general  practice  the  observance 


48  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

of  this  doctrine.  It  was  conviction  founded  upon  the 
study  of  his  art.  In  this  matter  he  put  himself  not  ac- 
cidentally, but  advisedly,  in  opposition  to  the  partisans 
of  the  purely  classical  school.  Yet  at  times  he  con- 
formed to  their  views.  In  the  case  of  one  of  his  later 
pieces  he  makes  his  conformity  noticeable.  No  one 
can  read  the  ‘ Tempest,’  with  this  matter  before  his 
mind,  and  fail  to  observe  how  persistently  attention  is 
called  to  the  unity  of  time.  Again  and  again,  in  the 
course  of  the  play,  reference  is  made  to  the  hour  when 
the  action  begins  and  to  the  hour  when  it  is  to  end. 
The  stress  which  is  laid  upon  this  one  point  proves  un- 
mistakably that  there  was  a deliberate  design  to  make 
it  prominent.  It  leads  naturally  to  the  conclusion  that 
in  this  particular  piece  Shakspeare  set  out  to  show  his 
critics  what  he  could  do  in  this  method,  if  he  were  dis- 
posed to  accept  the  doctrine  which  he  rejected. 

But  a controversy  which  indirectly  affected  Chaucer 
was  that  which  went  on  in  regard  to  the  proper  method 
of  versification.  A persistent  effort  was  made  at  this 
period  by  a clamorous,  if  not  very  numerous,  party  to 
banish  ryme  from  poetry.  In  one  form  of  it  the  move- 
ment met  with  success.  Blank  verse,  introduced  into 
the  language  by  Surrey,  introduced  into  the  drama  by 
Sackville,  and  perfected  by  Marlowe,  took  possession  of 
the  stage,  and  gave  the  play-writer  an  instrument  of  ex- 
pression which  adapted  itself  with  equal  fitness  and  fa- 
cility to  the  level  of  ordinary  conversation  and  to  the 
highest  flights  of  the  imagination.  But  a half-way  course, 
which,  while  using  a ryming  measure,  contented  itself 
with  merely  stripping  it  of  ryme,  was  not  one  which 


CONTROVERSIES  IN  THE  SIXTEENTH  CENTURY  49 

satisfied  the  adherents  of  the  classical  school.  Ascham 
early  pointed  out  that  blank  verse  was  good  so  far  as  it 
went,  but  that  it  did  not  go  far  enough.  It  observed, 
he  said,  just  measure  and  even  feet ; but  its  feet  were 
not  distinct  by  true  quantity  of  syllables.  It  was  no 
negative  result  of  this  sort  which  the  men  who  shared 
his  views  were  aiming  to  bring  about.  They  sought  to 
introduce  the  ancient  measures,  they  wished  to  make 
them  the  exclusive  representatives  of  the  metrical  moulds 
into  which  poetical  expression  should  be  cast.  The  em- 
ployment of  these  measures  was  pressed  with  urgency 
by  a body  of  scholars  possessed  of  much  learning,  but 
in  this  matter  not  possessed  of  much  intelligence.  Lum- 
bering hexameters  and  dolorous  sapphics  consequently 
made  their  appearance  in  English  literature.  Other 
classical  measures  were  recommended  for  adoption. 
These  were  not  to  take  their  place  by  the  side  of  ryme 
as  a supplementary  method  of  versification.  They  were 
to  take  the  place  of  it.  Ryming  was  to  be  driven  out 
entirely.  The  great  Greek  and  Roman  writers  had 
avoided  it ; therefore  it  was  a thing  to  be  avoided  as 
bad  in  itself.  The  partisans  of  the  classical  school  accord- 
ingly agreed  in  condemning  its  employment.  They  re- 
peated Ascham’s  assertion  that  ryme  was  a rude  and 
barbarous  invention,  first  brought  into  use  by  the  Goths 
and  Huns,  and  then  unhappily  introduced  into  the  mod- 
ern literatures  of  Europe  by  men  of  excellent  wit,  it  is 
true,  but  of  little  learning  and  of  less  judgment.  Hence 
the  substitution  of  it  for  the  ancient  classic  measures 
was  the  principal  thing  needed  to  lift  English  poetry 
from  the  degradation  into  which  it  had  fallen. 

III.— 4 


50 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


The  feeling  operated  curiously  upon  literary  judg- 
ments. It  led  to  a fanciful  admiration  of  the  ‘Vision  of 
Piers  Plowman.’  This  poem  gained  for  a while  a species 
of  fictitious  reputation  with  the  adherents  of  the  clas- 
sical school  because  it  lacked  ryme,  and  was  therefore 
ignorantly  supposed  to  represent  a verse  founded  upon 
quantity.  “As  Homer,”  says  Meres  in  ‘ Palladis  Tamia,’ 
“ was  the  first  that  adorned  the  Greek  tongue  with  true 
quantity,  so  Piers  Plowman  was  the  first  that  observed 
the  true  quantity  of  our  verse  without  the  curiosity  of 
ryming.”  This  same  sentiment  about  the  classical  meas- 
ures affected  also  to  a certain  degree  the  estimation  in 
which  Chaucer  himself  was  held  in  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury. Something  of  the  admiration  bestowed  upon  him 
was  tempered  by  the  feeling  that  in  the  matter  of  met- 
rical measures  he  had  subordinated  his  genius  to  the  de- 
mands of  a barbarous  age.  He  had  no  more  ardent 
admirer  than  Ascham  ; but  that  scholar  could  not  but 
deplore  that  the  English  Homer,  as  he  calls  him,  had  not 
followed  the  best  examples  in  versification,  so  as  not  to 
have  been  led  by  time  and  custom  to  content  himself, 
with  rude  and  beggarly  ryming.  But  even  more  than  it 
affected  the  estimate  of  the  poet  did  it  affect  the  belief 
that  prevailed  as  to  the  character  of  the  metre  he  em- 
ployed. Knowledge  of  its  nature  was  revived  in  the 
last  century  by  Tyrwhitt.  The  question  naturally  arises, 
When  did  ignorance  of  its  nature  begin,  or  at  least  be- 
come universal?  How  far  did  there  exist  in  the  six- 
teenth century  acquaintance  with  the  peculiarities  of 
Chaucer’s  verse?  To  what  extent  were  his  lines  then 
believed  to  be  exact  and  harmonious?  What  means 


CONTROVERSIES  IN  THE  SIXTEENTH  CENTURY  51 

existed,  if  any  existed  at  all,  to  remove  apparent  irregu- 
larities ? 

On  the  general  question  we  have  conflicting  state- 
ments. “ For  his  verses,”  writes  Speght,  in  his  prefa- 
tory address,  “ although  in  divers  places  they  may  seem 
to  us  to  stand  of  unequal  measures,  yet  a skilful  reader 
that  can  scan  them  in  their  nature  shall  find  it  other- 
wise. And  if  a verse  here  and  there  fall  out  a syllable 
shorter  or  longer  than  another,  I rather  aret^  it  to  the 
negligence  and  rape^  of  Adam  Scrivener,  that  I may 
speak  as  Chaucer  doth,  than  to  any  uncunning  or  over- 
sight in  the  author.”  This  passage  appears  in  the  edi- 
tion of  1602,  but  not  in  that  of  1598.  There  is  every 
reason  to  believe,  in  consequence,  that  it  owes  its  inspira- 
tion, if  not  even  its  wording,  to  the  antiquary  Francis 
Thynne.  When  this  folio  was  reprinted  in  1687,  the  ad- 
dress to  the  readers  was  retained  in  its  entirety.  It  was 
the  doctrine  laid  down  in  the  sentences  that  have  just 
been  quoted  which  Dryden  controverted  in  the  famous 
critical  essay  he  prefixed  to  his  modernizations.  He,  in- 
deed, seems  to  have  taken  it  as  the  view  of  the  contem- 
porary editor.  He  insisted  strongly  that  there  was  no 
regularity  in  many  of  Chaucer’s  lines,  and  that  there  was 
no  system  of  scansion  by  which  they  could  be  made  reg- 
ular. The  theory  set  forth  in  this  prefatory  address  was, 
in  his  opinion,  manifestly  wrong.  From  the  point  of 
view  of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  with  the  knowl- 
edge possessed  by  it,  wrong  it  certainly  was. 

Moreover,  in  spite  of  Speght’s  assertion,  it  is  question- 
able if  the  sixteenth  century  was,  in  this  respect,  much 


^ Impute. 


Haste. 


52  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

better  off  than  the  seventeenth.  There  is  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  the  former  found  trouble  in  reading  Chaucer’s 
poetry  of  the  same  kind  as  did  the  latter,  though  by  no 
means  to  the  same  degree.  At  almost  its  very  begin- 
ning there  occur  passages  which  give  the  impression  that 
difficulty  had  been  experienced  with  his  versification. 
Skelton,  in  his  poem  of  ‘ Philip  Sparrow,’  devotes  a pas- 
sage to  the  consideration  of  the  English  tongue,  which 
he  speaks  of  as  rude  and  unpolished.  In  the  course  of 
it  he  refers  to  the  language  of  Chaucer  as 

“ At  those  dayes  moch  commended, 

And  now  men  wolde  have  amended 
His  Englysh,  wherat  they  barke. 

And  mar  all  they  warke.”  796-799. 

Later  in  the  century  we  find  a positive  statement  to  the 
effect  that  the  poet’s  lines  were  irregular.  Gascoigne,  in 
his  ‘Instructions  concerning  the  Making  of  Verse  and 
Rhyme  in  English,’  accompanying  an  edition  of  his 
poems  printed  in  1575,  asserts  the  fact  in  unmistakable 
language.  “ Our  father  Chaucer,”  he  wrote,  “ hath  used 
the  same  liberty  in  feet  and  measures  that  the  Latinists 
do  use;  and  whosoever  do  peruse  and  well  consider  his 
works,  he  shall  find  that  although  his  lines  are  not  always 
of  one  self-same  number  of  syllables,  yet  being  read  by 
one  that  hath  understanding  the  longest  verse  and  that 
which  hath  most  syllables  in  it  will  fall  (to  the  ear)  cor- 
respondent unto  that  which  hath  fewest  syllables  in  it, 
and  likewise  that  which  hath  in  it  fewest  syllables  shall 
be  found  yet  to  consist  of  words  that  have  such  natural 
sound  as  may  seem  equal  in  length  to  a verse  which  hath 
many  mo  syllables  of  lighter  accent.” 


IRREGULARITY  OF  VERSIFICATION  53 

Here  we  find  in  the  quotation  just  given  the  influence 
of  the  extreme  classical  school  asserting  itself.  Irregu- 
larity on  the  part  of  the  early  writers  was  imputed  to 
their  credit.  It  evinced  a noble  disdain  of  the  sense- 
less and  monotonous  jingle  which  had  come  to  be  the 
normal  rule  of  poetry.  There  was,  therefore,  a tendency 
to  regard  unevenness,  or  rather  ruggedness,  as  a virtue, 
instead  of  deploring  it  as  a defect.  By  men  who  looked 
upon  ryming  verse  as  a monstrosity,  preservation  of  the 
harmony  of  ryming  verse  would  not  seem  a matter  of 
consequence.  One  reason,  therefore,  why  regularity  of 
accent  was  not  believed  to  exist  was  because  men  did 
not  wish  to  find  it.  To  have  a different  number  of  syl- 
lables in  the  lines,  but  to  have  the  lines  when  properly 
pronounced  of  the  same  length,  was  to  say  that  there 
was  an  approach,  at  least,  to  the  classical  standard,  in 
which  the  verse  was  governed  by  quantity,  and  not  de- 
pendent upon  equality  of  syllables.  To  this  extent 
Chaucer  then  gained  repute  with  some  for  what  would 
be  deemed  by  most  a fault.  He  was  praised  for  it  then. 
Praise  of  the  same  sort  has  been  repeated  in  modern 
times.  During  the  centuries  that  have  followed  the  in- 
vention of  printing,  there  have  always  been  those  who 
have  taken  pleasure,  or  at  any  rate  have  expressed  pleas- 
ure, in  his  assumed  homeliness  of  versification.  This 
was  not  invariably  due  to  antiquarian  taste,  though,  as 
we  shall  see  later,  it  was  in  some  instances.  But  at  all 
times  there  exists  a body  of  men,  which  body  at  certain 
times  grows  to  be  comparatively  numerous,  who  come  to 
have  a feeling  of  positive  dislike  for  the  smoothness  and 
harmony  of  the  poetic  forms  in  established  use.  They 


54 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


are  possessed  by  a fondness  for  the  outlandish,  the  bi- 
zarre, or  at  least  the  unusual.  This  fondness  does  not 
extend  very  wide,  nor  does  it  continue  for  a very  long 
period.  It  is  limited  to  a small  class ; but  as  that  class 
is  almost  always  composed  of  men  of  more  than  ordi- 
nary acquirements  and  ability,  it  is  apt  to  produce  for 
the  while  it  lasts  a good  deal  of  an  impression.  In  the 
sixteenth  century  this  feeling  occasionally  combined  it- 
self with  the  movement  that  went  on  against  ryme.  The 
assumed  irregularity  of  Chaucer’s  versification  was  ac- 
cordingly looked  upon  by  all  such  adherents  of  the  clas- 
sical party  as  something  for  which  he  was  to  be  honored. 
He  had  not  freed  himself  from  the  barbarousness  of 
ryme  ; but  he  had,  to  some  extent,  observed  quantity. 

It  is  clear  from  what  has  been  said  that  a conflict  of 
opinion  existed  at  the  time  in  regard  to  the  regularity 
of  Chaucer’ s versification.  Here  it  is  that  Spenser’s 
practice  enables  us  to  ascertain  the  nature  and  the  de- 
gree of  the  knowledge  that  then  prevailed  upon  the  sub- 
ject. An  examination  of  his  poems  shows  the  existence 
of  certain  characteristics  which,  though  obsolete  in  the 
common  speech,  still  retained  poetic  vitality.  It  also 
shows,  to  a slight  extent,  the  employment  by  him  of 
grammatical  forms  which  had  died  out  of  the  language 
entirely,  list  of  these  peculiarities  is  not  a long  one. 
The  cn  of  the  infinitive  and  of  the  plural  of  the  present 
tense,  and  the  ed of  the  preterite  and  of  the  past  participle, 
could  constitute  a distinct  syllable.  So,  also,  could  the 
cs  of  the  genitive  singular  and  of  the  plural.  The  eden 
of  the  preterite  plural  was  occasionally  used  to  form  two 
syllables.  As  two  syllables  also  appeared  frequently,  the 


SIXTEENTH-CENTURY  PRONUNCIATION  55 

termination  ion^  with  the  principal  accent  resting  upon 
the  final  one.  At  times,  moreover,  though  not  often, 
words  such,  for  instance,  as  carriage  were  pronounced 
as  if  they  contained  three  syllables.  In  this  way  the 
normal  measure  of  the  verse  could  be  maintained.  All 
these  things  belong  to  the  versification  of  Chaucer,  and 
their  application  to  his  lines  will  in  many  instances  re- 
lieve them  of  seeming  irregularities.  Spenser  exempli- 
fies them  all.  One  characteristic,  however,  of  his  prede- 
cessor that  is  lacking  entirely  in  him  is  the  pronuncia- 
tion  of  the  final  e. jKnowledge  of  that  was,  to  all  ap- 

pearance, wholly  lost.  Variation  of  accent  also  existed 
on  a very  limited  scale.  As  practised  by  Chaucer,  it  was 
certainly  not  well  understood.  The  07i  of  the  termina- 
tion ion  did  receive  the  principal  accent,  it  is  true,  and 
in  this  the  early  poet’s  example  was  followed.  But  so, 
also,  did  the  ed  of  the  past  participle  receive  the  princi- 
pal accent,  and  in  this  his  example  was  not  followed. 
There  are  lines  in  Spenser  in  which  the  principal  accent 
falls  even  upon  ctJi,  the  termination  of  the  third  person 
singular  of  the  present  tense  of  the  verb.  This  would 
have  been  impossible  to  Chaucer,  and,  indeed,  has  been 
exceedingly  rare  in  English  versification  at  any  period. 

These  are  the  facts  that  can  be  gathered  from  the 
practice  of  Spenser.  They  show  what  are  the  rules 
that  were  adopted  by  a diligent  student  of  Chaucer  for 
the  purpose  of  reading  his  verse  as  he  supposed  the 
author  intended  it  to  be  read.  But  while  the  observance 
of  these  rules  would  make  many  lines  harmonious,  it 
would  not  so  affect  them  all.  Against  that  the  failure 
to  pronounce  the  final  e was  an  absolute  barrier.  The 


56  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

result  was  that  even  among  the  professed  disciples  of 
the  elder  poet  a certain  degree  of  ruggedness  was  con- 
ceded to  his  metre.  It  is  in  the  two  productions  enti- 
tled ‘ Mother  Hubbard’s  Tale  ’ and  ‘ Colin  Clout ’s  Come 
Home  Again’  that  we  find  the  most  palpable  illustra- 
tions of  Spenser’s  imitation  of  his  predecessor’s  versifi- 
cation, and  almost  the  only  illustrations  of  roughness  in 
his  own  versification.  It  is  the  former  of  these  pieces 
that  is  usually  spoken  of  as  having  owed  its  inspiration 
directly  to  the  ‘ Canterbury  Tales.’  This  seems  a view 
for  which  there  is  no  justification.  The  custom  of  im- 
puting to  beasts  the  thoughts  and  actions  of  men  is  too 
ancient  and  too  general  to  be  regarded  as  the  exclusive 
property  of  any  one  author.  Neither  of  the  two  produc- 
tions mentioned  can  be  deemed  an  imitation  of  Chaucer’s 
matter,  or  even  of  his  manner.  The  resemblances  in  this 
respect  are  purely  superficial.  Spenser’s  poetic  quality 
is  something  so  distinct  from  that  of  Chaucer’s  that  he 
would  have  been  unable  to  succeed  in  such  an  imitation 
had  he  tried,  and  there  is  no  evidence  that  he  tried.  He 
was,  in  fact,  too  great  a poet  to  be  a thorough-going  imi- 
tator of  even  so  great  a poet  as  Chaucer.  But  while  both 
his  matter  and  manner  were  essentially  different  from 
his  predecessor’s,  he  did  strive  in  the  pieces  mentioned 
to  reproduce,  so  far  as  in  him  lay,  his  method  of  versifi- 
cation. He  who  reads,  in  particular,  ‘Mother  Hubbard’s 
Tale’  will  gain  a fair  conception  of  the  way  in  which 
Chaucer  sounded  to  the  men  of  the  sixteenth  century. 
There  are  lines  in  this  piece  that  lack  the  proper  num- 
ber of  syllables.  There  are  lines  that  are  remarkable  for 
nothing  so  much  as  for  their  lack  of  harmony.  There 


SIXTEENTH-CENTURY  PRONUNCIATION  57 

are  entire  passages  that  are  throughout  written  in  what 
would  strike  us  as  a lame  and  halting  metred  In  a 
writer  whose  natural  melody  is  almost  cloying  in  its 
smoothness  and  sweetness,  such  a deviation  from  his 
usual  practice  could  not  be  due  to  accident.  It  was  the 
result  of  design.  It  was  adopted  for  no  other  reason 
than  that  Chaucer  was  believed  to  have  furnished  the 
example  of  this  sort  of  ruggedness  in  the  measure. 

The  view  just  given  of  Spenser’s  versification  enables 
us,  accordingly,  to  make  with  comparative  safety  certain 
general  statements  about  the  extent  of  the  knowledge 
of  Chaucer’s  versification  which  existed  in  the  sixteenth 
century.  For  most  educated  men  the  harmony  of  his 
numbers  had  disappeared  almost  entirely.  All  he  could 
rely  upon  for  the  maintenance  of  his  reputation  was  the 
weight  of  his  matter — a very  insecure  foundation  for 
permanent  fame  in  an  art  to  which  beauty  of  form  is  as 
essential  as  beauty  of  conception.  With  men  of  letters, 
however,  who  were  special  students  of  his  verse,  there 
existed  devices  to  give  regularity  to  many,  perhaps  to 
most,  of  his  lines.  When  all  means  known  to  these 
failed,  the  lack  of  regularity  was  either  imputed  to  in- 
difference on  his  part,  or  the  burden,  which  was  too 
heavy  for  him  as  a poet  to  bear,  was  transferred  to  the 
broader  shoulders  of  the  unknown  and  depraved  but 
much-enduring  scribe.  It  is  evident  that  even  this  lim- 
ited acquaintance  with  his  methods  of  versification  was 
confined  to  a small  class  which  had  a steady  tendency  to 
become  smaller.  As  familiarity  with  his  versification 
was  not  founded  upon  perfect  knowledge,  it  Avas  merely 


» See,  for  illustration,  lines  142-146,  183-188,211-214,  515-540,  etc. 


58 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


a question  of  time  when  it  should  become  more  and 
more  vague  in  its  character,  and  at  last  disappear  en- 
tirely. That  result  was  speedily  to  overtake  it.  Per- 
haps it  was  hastened  rather  than  hindered  by  the  con- 
test that  comes  now  to  be  considered,  which  went  on  in 
regard  to  language. 

Among  the  Elizabethan  writers  there  were  two  parties 
that  held  very  diverse  views  in  regard  to  the  diction  of 
poetry.  At  the  head  of  one  of  these  was  Spenser.  On 
account  of  his  conspicuous  position  his  words  are  the 
ones  mainly  to  be  considered.  We  do  not  need  to  go 
outside  of  his  practice  to  find  his  theory  best  exempli- 
fied. In  his  eyes  Chaucer  is  the  representative  of  all 
that  is  best  and  purest  in  language,  at  least  in  the  lan- 
guage of  poetry.  He  is,  as  he  terms  him,  ‘‘the  well  of 
English  undefiled.”  To  revive  his  forgotten  words  or 
forgotten  meanings,  to  make  use  of  his  abandoned  in- 
flections, so  far  as  could  be  done,  was  an  object  he  kept 
steadily  in  view.  His  ideas  were  formulated  in  the  pref- 
atory letter  to  Gabriel  Harvey,  signed  E.  K.,  which  ac- 
companied the  ‘ Shepherd’s  Calendar’  on  its  publication 
in  1579.  this  the  employment  of  old  and  obsolete 
words  was  defended  as  bringing  grace  and  authority  to 
the  verse.  “ In  my  opinion,”  says  the  writer,  “ it  is  one 
special  praise  6f  many  which  are  due  to  this  poet,  that 
he  hath  labored  to  restore  as  to  their  rightful  heritage 
such  good  and  natural  English  words  as  have  been  long 
time  out  of  use  and  clean  disherited.  Which  is  the  only 
cause  that  our  mother  tongue,  which  truly  of  itself  is 
both  full  enough  for  prose  and  stately  enough  for  verse, 
hath  long  time  been  counted  most  bare  and  barren  of 


REVIVAL  OF  CHAUCER’S  WORDS 


59 


both.”  The  writer  of  this  prefatory  epistle  then  pro- 
ceeds to  censure  those  who  have  attempted  to  patch  up 
the  deficiencies  in  the  language  by  borrowing  here  and 
there  of  the  French  and  Italian,  and  everywhere  of  the 
Latin.  He  furthermore  attacks  those  who  are  so  igno- 
rant of  their  own  speech  as  to  cry  out  against  old  English 
words,  even  though  natural  and  significant.  Of  these  he 
speaks  with  undisguised  contempt.  Their  ‘‘  first  shame,” 
he  remarks,  “ is  that  they  are  not  ashamed  in  their  own 
mother  tongue  to  be  counted  strangers  and  aliens.” 

Spenser  did  not  limit  himself  in  his  choice  of  words 
to  the  works,  genuine  or  spurious,  of  Chaucer.  Still,  it 
was  from  them  that  he  drew  a large  proportion  of  the 
archaic  vocabulary  and  grammar  he  employed.^  His  in- 
fluence was  so  wide  in  his  own  time  that  his  course  of 
conduct  begot  many  imitators.  To  use  the  obsolete 
words  of  the  early  poet,  or  still  existing  words  in  the  ob- 
solete senses  they  had  in  his  time,  or  to  lengthen  the 
line  by  the  use  of  his  obsolete  inflections,  became  to 
some  extent  a literary  fashion.  It  frequently  met  with 
praise  from  men  who  in  their  own  writings  did  not  fol- 
low the  practice.  It  is  the  subject  of  special  commen- 
dation paid  to  Spenser  himself  in  the  letter  that  the 
dramatist  Beaumont  wrote  to  Speght.  “ His  much  fre- 
quenting of  Chaucer’s  ancient  words,”  he  said,  “ with  his 
excellent  imitation  of  diverse  places  in  him,  is  not  the 
least  help  that  hath  made  him  reach  so  high  as  many 

^ In  the  appendix  to  the  first  vol-  bounds  to  say  of  those  that  are  in 
lime  of  Grosart’s  Works  of  Spenser,  .any  way  distinctive  that  for  much 
p.  408  flf. , there  is  a list  given  of  about  the  larger  number  of  them  it  is  not 
550  words  and  phrases  that  are  de-  necessary  to  go  outside  of  Chaucer’s 
dared  to  have  been  taken  from  the  works. 

Lancashire  dialect.  It  is  well  within 


6o 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


learned  men  do  think  that  no  poet,  either  French  or 
Italian,  deserves  a second  place  under  him.” 

On  the  other  hand,  there  was  a party  which  from 
the  very  outset  looked  upon  this  practice  with  undis- 
guised hostility.  Sidney,  to  whom  the  ‘ Shepherd’s  Cal- 
endar’ was  dedicated,  cannot  in  this  matter  be  reckoned 
among  the  adherents  of  Spenser.  While  approving  the 
poetry  of  that  work,  he  hesitatingly  expressed  his  disap- 
probation of  the  archaic  and  dialectic  terms  in  which  it 
abounded.  “ That  same  framing  of  his  style,”  he  wrote, 
“ to  an  old  rustic  language  I dare  not  allow.”  Putten- 
ham  was  more  outspoken.  “ Our  maker,  therefore,  at 
these  days,”  he  said,  “ shall  not  follow  Piers  Plowman, 
nor  Gower,  nor  Lydgate,  nor  yet  Chaucer,  for  their  lan- 
guage is  now  out  of  use  with  us.”  The  poet  Daniel, 
himself  deeply  interested  in  questions  of  speech  and  ver- 
sification, put  himself  speedily  upon  record  in  the  dis- 
cussion of  this  matter,  as  he  did  in  the  controversy  in 
regard  to  ryme.  He  was  a sincere  admirer  of  Spenser; 
yet  in  1592  he  attacked  the  obsolete  diction  of  the 
‘ Fairy  Queen,’  the  first  three  books  of  which  had  been 
published  two  years  before. 

“ Let  others  sing  of  knights  and  paladins 
In  aged  accents  and  untimely  words,” 

are  the  lines  with  which  he  begins  the  fifty-second  of  his 
sonnets  to  Delia.  Edmund  Bolton,  the  antiquarian  writer, 
is  even  more  explicit.  His  ^ Hypercritica’  is  thought  to 
have  been  written  about  1610,  though  it  was  not  pub- 
lished until  1722.  In  it  he  has  one  section  devoted  to 
the  works  of  the  authors  who  are  to  be  looked  upon  as 


, REVIVAL  OF  CHAUCER’S  WORDS  6 1 

authorities  for  the  choice  of  words.  These  he  speaks  of 
as  “ prime  gardens  for  gathering  English  according  to 
the  true  gage  and  standard  of  the  tongue  about  sixteen 
years  ago.”  He  is  remarkable  for  directly  denying  the 
authority  of  Spenser.  His  ‘ Hymns/  indeed,  he  recom- 
mends. Not  so  his  more  famous  works.  “ I cannot  ad- 
vise,” he  writes,  “ the  allowance  of  other  his  poems,  as 
for  practick  English,  no  more  than  I can  do  Geff.  Chau- 
cer, Lydgate,  Peirce  Ploughman  and  Laureate  Skelton.” 
Bolton,  indeed,  is  speaking  of  the  diction  which  a writer 
of  history  should  employ.  It  cannot  be  assumed,  there- 
fore, that  he  would  have  condemned  the  use  of  Spenser’s 
language  in  poetry.  But  a name  greater  than  any  that 
has  been  mentioned  is  on  record  as  having  attacked  the 
introduction  of  obsolete  words  without  limiting  the  view 
to  any  particular  subject.  Upon  this  very  point  Ben  Jon- 
son  expressed  himself  strongly.  In  the  remarks  upon 
language  contained  in  his  ' Discoveries,’  he  censures 
those  who  affect  archaic  expressions  as,  he  says,  “ some 
do  Chaucerisms  with  us,  which  were  better  expunged 
and  banished.” 

There  was,  in  some  measure,  justification  for  the  course 
taken  by  Spenser  and  his  imitators.  A revival  of  the 
poetic  words  of  the  past  is  to  a certain  extent  not  unde- 
sirable nor  ineffective.  It  is  something  that  is  going  on 
at  the  present  time.  But  one  essential  condition  of  the 
permanence  of  its  success  is  that  it  shall  go  on  slowly. 
The  appearance  of  a small  number  of  archaic  words  and 
forms  will  be  tolerated,  especially  in  poetry,  and  will 
even  be  welcomed.  But  if  the  language  is  overloaded 
with  them,  the  object  of  their  introduction  is  defeated. 


62 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


The  moment  that  the  study  of  literature  pure  and  simple 
is  turned  into  the  study  of  the  grammar  and  the  lexicon, 
it  has  failed  not  merely  in  its  main  object,  but  also  in  its 
support  of  the  auxiliary  cause  for  which  it  has  sacrificed 
itself.  Poetry  ceases  to  be  a pleasure  or  an  inspiration 
as  soon  as  it  begins  to  need  the  constant  help  of  an  in- 
terpreter. Whatever  temporary  success  the  caprice  of 
fashion  may  give  it,  failure  in  the  long  run  is  inevitable. 
The  things  that  were  intended  to  attract,  which  perhaps 
for  a time  do  attract,  become  eventually  the  things  that 
repel.  Spenser’s  archaisms  are  a case  in  point.  He  is 
an  author  who  has  always  been  reckoned  among  the  very 
greatest  of  English  poets.  He  has  been  a special  favor- 
ite with  poets  themselves.  Yet  he  has  never  been  able 
to  make  his  vocabulary  live,  so  far  as  it  differed  from 
the  common  vocabulary  of  his  time.  None  of  the  large 
number  of  the  obsolete  and  dialectic  words  he  introduced 
survived  their  introduction.  None  became  so  familiar 
through  his  writings  as  finally  to  incorporate  themselves 
into  the  speech.  They  are  as  strange  to  us  now  as  they 
were  to  his  contemporaries.  Their  very  number  caused 
them  to  crowd  each  other  to  death.  They  did  even  more 
than  destroy  their  own  life  : they  made  his  writings  diffi- 
cult to  read,  and  therefore  comparatively  little  read. 

There  was,  besides,  something  more  than  this  to  ac- 
count for  the  failure.  Ben  Jonson,  who  was  a scholar, 
saw  at  once  what  was  the  real  difficulty  in  the  matter. 
“ Spenser,”  he  said,  “ in  affecting  the  ancients  writ  no  lan- 
guage.” This  expresses  the  actual  condition  of  things, 
even  were  we  to  concede  that  Jonson  himself  did  not  un- 
derstand the  full  purport  of  what  he  was  saying.  The 


REVIVAL  OF  CHAUCER’S  WORDS 


63 


faults  of  Spenser’s  vocabulary  are  largely  of  a quite  differ- 
ent character  from  that  commonly  imputed  to  them.  It 
is  not  that  he  brought  together  the  language  of  the  past 
and  of  the  present,  the  speech  of  the  educated  man  and  of 
the  rustic,  and  fashioned  from  it  a dialect  which  nobody 
who  lived  at  any  time  or  at  any  place  ever  spoke.  This 
is,  of  course,  true.  Still,  its  truth  might  be  conceded  by 
an  admirer  of  the  poet  who  did  not  feel  that  it  was  a 
serious  charge  against  the  diction  he  employed.  But  it 
is  far  from  being  the  whole  truth.  Spenser’s  errors  were 
of  a different  and  graver  character.  He  failed  frequently 
to  understand  the  words  and  grammar  of  the  author  he 
admired.  Hence  his  revivals  of  Chaucer  are  often  not  re- 
vivals of  the  past,  but  pure  creations  of  his  own  fancy,  to 
which  nothing  similar  ever  existed  in  reality.  He  coins 
words  under  the  apparent  impression  that  they  were  ones 
that  had  issued  from  the  mint  of  his  predecessor.  He 
gives  to  words  he  adopted  from  Chaucer  meanings  they 
never  had  in  the  writings  of  the  latter,  or  in  those  of  any 
one  else.  He  adds  new  terminations  to  old  words,  in 
order  to  make  them  suitable  for  ryme.  One  instance  of 
his  understanding  or  misunderstanding  will  be  sufficient 
to  show  the  general  nature  of  the  mistakes  he  was  always 
liable  to  make,  and  frequently  did  make.  In  Anglo- 
Saxon  the  irregular  verb  gdn^  ‘ to  go,’  had  as  a preterite 
eode.  In  later  English  this  preterite  appeared  in  several 
forms,  of  which  ycde  and  yode  are  both  found.  The 
former  occurs  in  Chaucer,  though  not  frequently.  Spen- 
ser, instead  of  looking  upon  them  as  variants  of  the  same 
word,  regarded  them  as  two  different  parts  of  the  same 
strong  verb.  With  him  yode  appears  as  a preterite  and 


64 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


yede  ox  yeede  as  an  infinitive.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  that 
as  an  yede  had  no  real  existence.  No  illustra- 

tion of  its  employment  can  be  met  with  outside  of  his 
pages  or  possibly  the  pages  of  some  of  his  imitators,  or 
of  one  or  two  of  his  contemporaries  who  had  committed 
independently  the  same  error. 

It  is  therefore  just  to  say  in  qualified  terms  what 
Jonson  said  in  sweeping  ones,  that,  as  a result  of  his 
affecting  the  speech  of  Chaucer,  “ Spenser  writ  no  lan- 
guage.” He  became  at  times  a difficult  author,  not  so 
much  because  his  words  had  only  an  obsolete  existence 
as  because  they  had  never  had  any  existence  at  all.  His 
imitations  of  his  predecessor’s  vocabulary  were  largely 
spurious.  They  were  therefore  foredoomed  to  failure. 
To  revive  the  past  of  a language  is  a sufficiently  arduous 
undertaking.  But  to  give  life  to  a supposed  past  that 
was  never  a present  is  something  quite  beyond  the  power 
of  a genius  greater  than  was  even  that  of  Spenser.  Yet 
there  seems  to  be  a fatality  about  Chaucer  in  causing 
the  best  scholars  to  make  the  worst  blunders.  No  one 
who  comes  even  remotely  within  the  sphere  of  his  influ- 
ence seems  capable  of  resisting  the  infection.  We  can 
naturally  find  traces  of  it  in  the  comments  made  in  re- 
gard to  the  efforts  avowedly  put  forth  in  the  sixteenth 
century  to  reproduce  his  diction.  Malone,  who  was  usu- 
ally as  accurate  as  he  was  dull — it  is  not  easy  to  give 
higher  praise  to  his  accuracy — ventured  to  contradict 
Ben  Jonson  in  his  criticism  of  Spenser’s  imitation  of  the 
ancient  English  writers.  “The  language  of  the  ‘Fairy 
Queen,’  ” he  wrote,  “was  the  poetical  language  of  the  age 
in  which  he  lived ; and,  however  obsolete  it  might  ap- 


REVIVAL  OF  CHAUCER’S  WORDS 


65 


pear  to  Dryden,  was,  I conceive,  perfectly  intelligible  to 
every  reader  of  poetry  in  the  time  of  Queen  Elizabeth, 
though  the  ‘ Shepherd’s  Calendar’  was  not  even  then  un- 
derstood without  a commentary.”^  This  statement  was 


quoted  approvingly  by  Todd  in  his  edition  of  Spenser’s 


works.  It  served  him  as  a starting-point  from  which  to 
enlarge  still  further  the  circle  of  ignorance  and  misrepre- 
sentation. Not  satisfied  with  adopting  the  view  just  set 
forth,  he  went  on  to  speak  of  Malone  as  having  declared 
that  Jonson’s  criticism  was  directed  only  against  the 
‘ Shepherd’s  Calendar  ’ and  not  against  the  ‘ Fairy  Queen  ’ 
— which  is  something  that  was  neither  true  of  what  Jon- 
son  said,  nor  of  what  Malone  said  that  he  had  said.^  Mod- 
ern linguistic  study  has  made  it  clear  that  the  language 
of  the  ‘Fairy  Queen’  was  the  poetical  language  of  the 
day  only  so  far  as  the  authority  of  Spenser  made  it  so. 
His  authority  was  not  sufficient  to  perpetuate  it.  If  the 
archaisms  he  borrowed  ever  renew  their  life  in  these 
later  days,  it  will  be  because  they  have  become  familiar 
to  us  in  the  authors  from  whom  he  mainly  took  them, 
and  not  because  they  have  become  familiar  to  us  in  his 
pages,  where  they  still  seem  out  of  place. 


These  attempts  at  reviving  the  versification  and  vo- 
cabulary of  Chaucer  are  sufficient  of  themselves  to  show 
how  potent  his  influence  still  continued  to  remain  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  sixteenth  century.  Abundant  proofs 
of  this  fact  lie  everywhere  upon  the  surface,  and  convey, 
one  would  suppose,  their  own  lesson.  Yet  the  lesson 
has  rarely  been  learned.  It  has  been  necessary,  in  con- 

^ Dryden’s  Prose  Works,  vol.  iii. , 
p.  94  (note). 


III.-5 


^ Todd’s  Spenser,  vol.  i.,  p.  clxiii. 


66 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


sequence,  to  give  the  details  in  full  because  the  opposite 
view  has  often  been  promulgated.  There  is  nothing 
connected  with  Chaucer’s  life  and  writings  that  has  not 
been  the  subject  of  mistake  and  misunderstanding,  and 
that  too  frequently  in  quarters  where  it  would  have  been 
little  expected.  The  question  of  Chaucer’s  reputation 
in  the  Elizabethan  age  furnishes  no  exception.  Much 
stress  need  not  be  laid  upon  the  blunder  of  a writer  like 
Hippisley,  who  tells  us  that,  with  the  exception  of  Beau- 
mont and  Puttenham,  “ there  is  scarcely  any  distinct  rec- 
ognition of  the  poetical  merits  of  the  ‘ Canterbury  Tales’ 
anterior  to  Dryden.”*  But  there  is  something  to  cause 
surprise  in  the  astounding  comparison  between  the  repu- 
tations of  Chaucer  and  Gower  that  was  made  by  so  dis- 
tinguished a pioneer  in  Early-English  study  as  Marsh. 
That  scholar,  whose  utterances  were  in  general  carefully 
guarded,  asserts  that  for  a long  time  the  fame  of  the  lat- 
ter was  much  more  extensive  than  that  of  the  former. 
“ His  works,”  he  writes,  as  being  of  a higher  moral 
tone,  or  at  least  of  higher  moral  pretensions,  and  at  the 
same  time  of  less  artificial  refinement,  were  calculated 
to  reach  and  influence  a somewhat  larger  class  than  that 
which  would  be  attracted  by  the  poems  of  Chaucer,  and 
consequently  they  seem  to  have  had  a wider  circulation.” 
This  sentence  does  something  more  than  convey  a false 
impression.  There  is  hardly  a single  statement  of  any 
sort  in  any  part  of  it  that  is  not  hopelessly  misleading. 

- The  reason  given  for  the  opinion  w^hich  has  just  been 
quoted  is  full  as  extraordinary  as  the  opinion  itself.  As 
the  sole  evidence  of  the  asserted  inferiority  of  Chau- 

^ Hippisley’s  Chapters  on  Early  English  Literature,  p.  42. 


CHAUCER  AND  THE  DRAMA 


67 


cer’s  reputation  to  that  of  Gower,  we  are  gravely  told 
that  the  former  is  not  mentioned  by  Shakspeare.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  play  of  ‘ Pericles  ’ is  avowedly  based 
upon  the  story  of  Apollonius  of  Tyre  contained  in  the 
‘ Confessio  Amantis,’  and  the  author  of  that  work  is  be- 
sides introduced  into  the  play  by  name,  and  performs  the 
office  of  the  chorus  in  the  ancient  drama.  “ There  is  no 
doubt,”  continues  Mr.  Marsh,  “ that  the  poem  of  Gower, 
however  inferior  to  the  work  of  his  master,  was  much  es- 
teemed in  his  lifetime,  and  still  enjoyed  a high  reputa- 
tion in  ages  when  Chaucer  was  almost  forgotten.  But 
posterity  has  reversed  the  judgment  of  its  immediate 
predecessors ; and  though  Gower  will  long  be  read,  he 
will  never  again  dispute  the  palm  of  excellence  with  the 
true  father  of  English  literature.”^ 

Assertions  of  such  a character,  coming  from  such  a 
source,  have  a tendency  to  discourage  the  expectation 
that  we  shall  ever  arrive  at  the  truth  about  Chaucer  on 
a single  point.  No  more  unauthorized  and  unwarranted 
inferences  have  ever  been  drawn  from  a single  fact.  It 
so  happened,  without  doubt,  that  Chaucer’s  name  was 
not  mentioned  by  Shakspeare.  But  no  reader  of  ‘Troi- 
lus  and  Cressida’  can  possibly  suppose  the  great  dram- 
atist to  have  been  unfamiliar  with  the  production  of 
the  early  poet  that  bears  the  same  title.  The  ‘ Mid- 
summer-Night’s Dream,’  moreover,  though  not  based 
upon  the  Knight’s  tale,  contains  passages  that  prove 
that  portions  of  the  latter  work  were  before  the  mind 
of  the  writer  while  engaged  in  the  composition  of  the 

^ Origin  and  History  of  the  English  Language,  by  George  P.  Marsh,  3d 
edition  (1872),  p.  439. 


68 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


former.  There  are  other  evidences  of  Shakspeare’s  fa- 
miliarity with  both  Chaucer  and  Gower  besides  those 
that  have  been  specified.  In  this  respect  he  was  no  dif- 
ferent from  his  contemporaries.  The  Knight’s  tale,  in 
particular,  naturally  attracted  the  attention  of  the  dram- 
atists of  the  Elizabethan  age,  who  were  always  on  the 
lookout  for  suitable  material.  Upon  it  was  founded  an 
early  play  called  ‘ Palemon  and  Arcite  ’ that  has  not  come 
down.  It  was  the  work  of  Richard  Edwards,  and  was 
produced  in  1566  at  Oxford  University  before  Queen 
Elizabeth.  A play  with  this  title  is  also  recorded  by 
Henslowe  under  the  year  1594  as  having  been  acted 
four  times. ^ From  the  same  tale  also  was  avowedly 
taken  the  drama  called  ‘The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen,’ 
which,  when  first  printed  in  1634,  had  on  its  title-page 
as  authors  the  names  of  Shakspeare  and  Fletcher. 
Whether  either  had  anything  to  do  with  it  is  still  a de- 
bated question ; but  the  tribute  paid  to  Chaucer  in  the 
prologue  furnishes  important  evidence  as  to  the  esti- 
mation in  which  the  early  poet  continued  to  be  held. 
Nominal  supremacy  must  at  least  have  been  conceded 
to  the  man  about  whom  lines  like  the  following  could 
be  written : 

“ Chaucer,  of  all  admired,  the  story  gives ; 

There  constant  to  eternity  it  lives. 

If  we  let  fall  the  nobleness  of  this. 

And  the  first  sound  this  child  hear  be  a hiss, 

How  will  it  shake  the  bones  of  that  good  man. 

And  make  him  cry  from  under  ground,  ‘ O,  fan 
From  me  the  witless  chaff  of  such  a writer. 

That  blasts  my  bays  and  my  famed  works  makes  lighter 

^ Diary  of  Philip  Henslowe,  pp.  41,  43,  and  44. 


CHAUCER  AND  THE  DRAMA 


69 


Than  Robin  Hood !’  This  is  the  fear  we  bring ; 

For  to  say  truth,  it  were  an  endless  thing, 

And  too  ambitious  to  aspire  to  him. 

Weak  as  we  are,  and  almost  breathless  swim 
In  this  deep  water,  do  but  you  hold  out 
Your  helping  hands,  and  we  shall  tack  about. 

And  something  do  to  save  us ; you  shall  hear 
Scenes,  though  below  his  art,  may  yet  appear 
Worth  two  hours’  travail.  To  his  bones  sweet  sleep ! 
Content  to  you  !” 

The  truth  is  that  Chaucer’s  works  had  been  from  the 
very  beginning  one  of  the  happy  hunting-grounds  to 
which  the  early  playwrights  resorted  in  their  search  for 
subjects  and  incidents.  So  much  of  the  Elizabethan 
drama  has  irrecoverably  perished  that  it  would  be  im- 
possible now  to  guess  even  approximately  the  extent  to 
which  this  practice  prevailed.  Yet  even  in  the  former 
half  of  the  sixteenth  century  Hey  wood  had  borrowed 
much  from  the  poet  in  his  interlude  of  ‘ The  Pardoner 
and  the  Friar.’  In  it  he  incorporated  almost  the  whole 
of  the  prologue  to  the  Pardoner’s  tale.  The  story  of 
Griselda,  unfit  as  it  is  for  dramatic  representation,  natur- 
ally could  not  escape.  It  had  early  become,  and  it  long 
continued  to  be,  exceedingly  popular.  It  had  been  told 
again  and  again  in  song  and  ballad  and  prose  narrative. 
It  had  given  its  name  to  a tune.  The  favor  with  which 
it  was  regarded,  due  perhaps  to  the  unlikeness  of  the 
events  it  recorded  to  anything  that  ever  happened  in 
real  life,  led  to  its  being  turned  into  a play  at  the  close 
of  the  sixteenth  century.  It  was  the  joint  work  of  Chet- 
tle.  Decker,  and  Haughton.  Their  comedy,  which  went 
under  the  name  of  ‘ Patient  Grissill,’  was  published  in 


70  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

1603.  There  was  nothing  in  it,  indeed,  which  proves 
absolutely  the  direct  acquaintance  of  its  authors  with 
the  story  as  found  in  the  ‘ Canterbury  Tales.’  Still,  that 
was  the  remote  original  to  which  all  these  various  pieces 
owed  their  existence. 

It  is,  perhaps,  unnecessary  to  introduce  these  addi- 
tional details  in  regard  to  Chaucer’s  popularity  in  the 
time  of  Shakspeare,  and  especially  his  comparative  popu- 
larity. It  is  difficult  to  comprehend  how  assertions  of 
the  character  quoted  could  ever  have  been  made  by  any 
one  who  had  made  the  most  superficial  study  of  the  writ- 
ers of  the  past.  For  if  there  be  one  indisputable  fact  in 
literary  history,  it  is  that  Gower  did  not  have  the  fame 
of  Chaucer  in  his  own  age,  and  that  he  has  never  had  it 
in  any  age  that  followed.  Upon  this  matter  enough  has 
been  said  in  the  preceding  pages  to  show  that  the  repu- 
tation for  good  sense  and  good  taste  of  the  contem- 
poraries of  the  two  poets  needs  no  defence  upon  this 
score.  The  same  remark  can  be  made  of  their  immedi- 
ate successors.  Later  times  continue  to  bear  testimony 
similar  to  that  furnished  by  the  earlier.  The  mere  fact 
that  no  edition  of  the  ‘ Confessio  Amantis’  appeared 
from  1554  until  1857  disposes  of  itself  of  the  fancy  that 
Gower’s  popularity  ever  stood  for  a moment  in  rivalry 
with  that  of  Chaucer.  Caxton  had,  indeed,  printed  his 
poem.  During  the  sixteenth  century  two  other  editions 
of  it  appeared.  These  were  sufficient  to  supply  the  de- 
mand both  for  that  time  and  for  the  three  hundred  years 
that  followed.  Nor  are  we  confined  to  the  evidence  of 
bibliography  to  refute  this  absurd  statement  which  de- 
rives importance  only  from  the  authority  of  the  scholar 


GOWER’S  RECOGNIZED  INFERIORITY  7 1 

by  whom  it  was  made.  The  thinness  of  Gov/er  was  as 
well  recognized  by  the  men  of  the  sixteenth  century  as 
was  the  greatness  of  Chaucer.  His  tediousness  was  as 
apparent  then  as  it  is  now.  The  capacity  of  being  bored 
by  it  was  as  well  developed  in  the  Elizabethan  age  as  it 
is  in  the  Victorian,  though  it  had  not  then  found  that 
particular  word  to  express  the  feeling.  The  critical  ref- 
erences made  to  Gower  at  that  time  constantly  imply 
his  inferiority  to  Chaucer.  In  some  instances  they  ex- 
press it  strongly.  The  general  view  is  very  effectively 
summed  up  by  Puttenham  in  his  ‘ Art  of  English  Poesy.’ 
“ Gower,”  he  wrote,  “ saving  for  his  good  and  grave  mo- 
ralities, had  nothing  in  him  highly  to  be  commended,  for 
his  verse  was  homely  and  without  good  measure,  his 
words  strained  much  deal  out  of  the  French  writers,  his 
ryme  wrested,  and  in  his  inventions  small  subtility : the 
applications  of  his  moralities  are  the  best  in  him,  and 
yet  those  many  times  very  grossly  bestowed,  neither 
doth  the  substance  of  his  works  answer  the  subtility  of 
his  titles.”  The  language  of  Drayton,  more  than  a quar- 
ter of  a century  afterwards,  is  full  as  explicit  and  even 
more  pointed.  It  appears  in  his  account  of  the  English 
poets  that  is  contained  in  his  ‘ Epistle  to  Henry  Rey- 
nolds.’ After  speaking  in  the  highest  terms  of  Chau- 
cer, he  followed  his  commendation  of  that  writer  with 
this  reference  to  his  contemporary,  which  can  certainly 
not  be  called  complimentary,  even  if  it  escape  the  charge 
of  being  contemptuous : 

“ And  honest  Gower,  who  in  respect  of  him 
Had  only  sipped  at  Aganippe’s  brim, 


72  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

And  though  in  years  this  last  was  him  before, 

Yet  fell  he  far  short  of  the  other’s  store.” 

I have  taken  great  pains  to  bring  out  these  points 
fully,  for  we  are  now  approaching  a period  when  the 
reputation  of  Chaucer  is  about  to  suffer  a temporary 
eclipse.  The  knowledge  of  his  versification  had  already 
disappeared  largely ; it  was  soon  to  disappear  entirely. 
His  language  was  speedily  to  become  almost  an  un- 
known tongue.  A few  adventurous  spirits  were  to  be 
the  only  ones  that  would  explore  the  literature  of  the 
fourteenth  century.  By  some  they  would  be  regarded 
as  heroes  for  their  hardihood,  and  by  most  as  asses  for 
their  pains.  That  neglect  was  about  to  overtake  him 
was  foreseen  even  by  the  men  who  admired  him.  Dan- 
iel, in  his  ‘ Musophilus,’  anticipates  it,  but  finds  some 
consolation  in  reflecting  upon  the  long  period  during 
which  his  fame  had  lasted.  “Yet  what  a time,”  he 
'wrote, 

“ hath  he  wrested  from  Time, 

And  won  upon  the  mighty  waste  of  days, 

Unto  the  immortal  honor  of  our  clime. 

That  by  his  means  came  first  adorned  with  bays ; 

Unto  the  sacred  relics  of  whose  ryme 
We  yet  are  bound  in  zeal  to  offer  praise !” 

This  is  in  the  nature  of  an  elegy  rather  than  of  a eulo- 
gium.  The  very  phrase  “sacred  relics”  shows  that  to 
many,  perhaps  to  most,  the  poet’s  language  was  begin- 
ning to  partake  of  something  of  the  nature  of  a dead 
tongue.  Difficult  to  comprehend,  impossible  to  read 
with  smoothness,  it  could  not  much  longer  hope  to 
compete  in  popular  estimation  with  the  works  of  the 


CHAUCER  IN  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY  73 

great  writers  who  were  to  make  the  Elizabethan  age 
famous  for  all  succeeding  time. 

The  result,  at  any  rate,  cannot  be  disputed.  It  was  j 
in  the  seventeenth  century,  especially  in  the  middle  and  \ 
the  latter  half  of  it,  that  the  reputation  of  Chaucer 
touched  the  lowest  point  to  which  it  ever  fell.  To  a 
certain  extent  this  was  due  to  causes  other  than  literary 
and  linguistic.  The  men  of  that  time  were  engaged  in 
a political  struggle  of  peculiar  bitterness.  It  was  large- 
ly based  upon  religious  differences,  and  it  culminated 
in  civil  war.  The  conflict  of  interests  and  views  that 
raged  for  years  stirred  the  feelings  of  all  to  the  pro- 
foundest  depths.  In  the  turbid  upheaval  of  passions 
that  resulted,  there  was  little  attention  paid  to  litera- 
ture, pure  and  simple,  of  any  kind.  Poetry  could  not 
hold  up  its  head  in  competition  with  controversial  pam- 
phlets that  dealt  with  the  exciting  questions  of  the  hour. 
This  will  account  for  something  of  the  comparative 
neglect  which  overtook  Chaucer’s  name  and  reputation. 

It  will  not  account  for  it  all.  There  is  one  fact  that 
cannot  be  gainsaid  or  explained  away.  For  eighty-five 
years  no  edition,  complete  or  even  partial,  appeared  of 
his  poems  in  any  form.  From  1602  to  1687  there  was 
not  demand  enough  for  his  writings  to  cause  a new  im- 
pression of  them  to  be  printed.  This  is  the  longest 
period  that  has  ever  elapsed  between  the  publication 
of  his  works  from  the  time  the  art  of  printing  was  in- 
troduced into  England.  The  eighteenth  century  was 
largely  ignorant  of  him,  and  indifferent  about  him  ; it 
was  usually  severer  in  its  criticism  ; but  its  record  in 
the  matter  of  the  poet’s  popularity,  so  far  as  it  can  be 


74  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

tested  by  the  demand  for  his  poetry,  far  surpasses  that 
of  the  seventeenth. 

I have  quoted  at  the  very  beginning  of  this  chapter 
the  remark  made  in  1628  by  Earle,  in  his  ‘ Microcos- 
mography.’ Chaucer,  according  to  him,  continued  to 
be  called  the  greatest  of  English  poets.  But  in  the 
light  of  the  facts  just  mentioned,  it  is  clear  that  this 
had  now  become  a purely  conventional  estimate.  It 
was  a traditional,  not  a real,  acknowledgment  of  his 
superiority.  It  was  still  the  correct  remark  to  make, 
but  it  rarely  represented  genuine  appreciation.  It  was 
the  common  voice,  Earle  said,  that  reckoned  him  at 
the  head  of  English  poets.  It  is  probably  true  that 
this  was  the  statement  made  commonly ; but  common- 
ly made,  it  is  to  be  feared,  by  those  who  read  no  poetry 
at  all.  Chaucer’s  works  were  rapidly  taking  their  place 
among  those  which  men  do  not  really  enjoy,  but  feel 
themselves  obliged,  under  the  pressure  of  society,  to  say 
that  they  do.  His  writings  were  accordingly  spoken  of 
with  the  highest  respect ; the  reading  of  them  was  care- 
fully avoided.  The  secret  of  his  versification  was  gone. 
His  matter  now  gave  significant  evidence  that  it  was 
on  its  way  to  become  the  quarry  of  the  antiquary  rather 
than  the  solace  of  the  lover  of  literature. 

It  is  easy,  of  course,  to  get  from  this  rapid  summary 
an  exaggerated  estimate  of  the  neglect  into  which  the 
poet  had  fallen  during  the  seventeenth  century.  It  is 
his  comparative  popularity  — comparative  not  merely 
with  that  of  other  writers  of  his  grade,  but  with  his 
own  popularity  at  other  times — that  comes  up  here  for 
consideration.  His  known  admirers  were  not  a few. 


ADMIRATION  EXPRESSED  BY  MILTON  75 

In  many  cases  they  are  the  greatest  of  the  great.  Every 
one  is  familiar  with  the  allusion  in  ‘ II  Penseroso/ where 
Milton  joins  him  with  the  elder  mythical  bards  of 
Greece,  in  the  famous  invocation  to 

“ Call  up  him  that  left  half  told 
The  story  of  Cambuscan  bold 

though  the  accentuation  of  the  proper  name  may  not 
be  thought  to  indicate  the  later  poet’s  familiarity  with 
the  earlier  poet’s  versification.  Still,  there  can  be  little 
doubt  of  Milton’s  full  acquaintance  with  his  predeces- 
sor’s life,  so  far.  as  it  was  then  known.  As  little  doubt 
is  there  of  his  admiration  for  his  writings,  based  upon 
the  fullest  acquaintance  with  them.  His  own  journey 
to  Italy  reminded  him  that  Chaucer  had  been  there 
before  him.  Tityrus,  he  tells  Manso,  formerly  came  to 
these  shores.'  Yet,  outside  of  these  two  places,  the  ref- 
erences in  his  works  to  the  early  poet  and  his  writings 
are  to  be  found  only  in  the  battailous  pamphlets  di-^ 
rected  against  the  prelacy.  As  was  inevitable,  the  fu- 
rious ‘ Plowman’s  Tale,’  then  universally  accepted  as 
genuine,  was  the  particular  piece  to  which  he  directed 
the  attention  of  his  readers.  The  fierceness  of  its  invec- 
tive accorded  with  his  own  feelings  ; the  nature  of  its 
attack  suited  his  purposes  ; but  there  is  no  reason  to 
assume  on  that  account  that  it  was  poetry  that  specially 
pleased  his  literary  taste.  Nor  is  there  any  ground  for 
the  assertion  constantly  made,  that  the  Squire’s  tale 
was  Milton’s  favorite,  because  it  is  the  one  alluded  to 
in  ‘ II  Penseroso.’  Its  introduction  there  merely  fell  in 
with  the  object  at  which  he  was  aiming.  That  was 

^ “ Quin  et  in  has  quondam  pervenit  Tityrus  oras.” — Afansus,  line  34. 


76  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

sufficient  reason  of  itself  for  him  to  refer  to  it  and  to 
its  characters. 

In  Milton's  case,  moreover,  we  are  no  longer  limited 
to  inferences  drawn  from  his  formal  productions  for  our 
belief  in  his  familiarity  with  the  writings  of  his  prede- 
cessor. In  1876,  a commonplace  book  of  his — perhaps 
one  of  a number  he  kept — was  published  by  the  Cam- 
den Society  from  the  original  manuscript.  The  work 
is  full  of  citations  from  about  a hundred  authors.  Only 
four  English  poets  are  quoted,  however.  Of  two  of 
these,  Sidney  and  Spenser,  the  prose  works  alone  are 
laid  under  contribution.  But  from  Chaucer’s  writings 
there  are  several  citations,  and  they  touch  upon  various 
subjects.  A passage  is  quoted  approvingly  from  the 
tale  of  the  Doctor  of  Physic,  which  treats  of  dangers 
to  be  avoided  in  the  education  of  the  young.  It  is  a 
suggestive  fact,  also,  that  the  democratic  sentiments 
advanced  in  the  ‘Romance  of  the  Rose’  and  in  the 
Wife  of  Bath’s  tale  had  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
ardent  republican  who  had  thrown  himself  with  a fervor 
so  intense  into  the  political  conflicts  of  the  time.  Some, 
too,  will  see  an  ominous  allusion  to  his  own  life  in  his 
brief  reference  to  “ the  discommoditie  of  marriage,”  as 
shown  in  the  Merchant’s  tale,  and  in  the  prologue  to 
that  of  the  Wife  of  Bath.  Whatever  may  have  been 
the  feelings  that  these  passages  indicate,  certain  it  is 
that  they  establish  decisively  the  intimate  acquaint- 
ance of  the  later  poet  with  the  writings  of  the  earlier. 

About  the  time,  also,  that  Milton  was  likening  the 
first  great  writer  of  our  literature  to  Orpheus  and  Mu- 
sseus  in  words  which  convey  the  impression  that  while 


KINASTON’S  LATIN  TRANSLATION  77 

he  was  as  reverend  he  was  as  little  known  as  they,  an- 
other peculiar  tribute  of  admiration  was  laid  at  the  feet 
of  Chaucer.  A most  singular  effort  was  made  to  intro- 
duce him  to  the  knowledge  of  his  countrymen  by  turn- 
ing one  of  his  productions  into  Latin.  This  was  the 
work  of  Sir  Francis  Kinaston,  who  was  attached  to  the 
household  of  Charles  I.  Kinaston  was  a most  fervent 
admirer  of  the  poet.  By  one  of  the  Oxford  men  who 
contributed  copies  of  verses  to  usher  in  his  translation, 
he  was  styled  more  Geoffreyan  than  Chaucer  himself.^ 
He  set  out  to  render  ‘Troilus  and  Cressida’  into  Latin. 
In  1635  two  books,  the  first  instalment  of  his  contem- 
plated work,  made  their  appearance.  The  original  was 
on  one  page,  the  translation  was  on  the  page  opposite. 
Outside  of  the  reprint  of  the  poem,  furnished  no  doubt 
for  the  sake  of  comparison,  there  was  no  concession 
made  to  the  mere  English  reader.  The  preface  ad- 
dressed to  him  was  in  Latin.  So,  also,  were  the  two 
dedications  of  the  first  and  second  books,  offered  re- 
spectively to  Patrick  Junius,  the  king’s  librarian,  and 
to  John  Rous,  the  librarian  of  the  Bodleian.  But 
though  there  was  a general  flavor  of  antiquity  about 
the  work,  it  was  not  the  flavor  of  classical  antiquity. 
The  peculiarity  of  this  version  is  that  it  followed  the 
original  closely  in  its  metrical  form.  It  had  the  same 
number  of  lines  in  the  stanza ; the  same  number  of 
syllables  in  the  line.  This  necessitated  even  a more 
marked  deviation  from  the  practice  of  the  ancients. 
The  translation  was  in  rymed  verse,  and  the  rymes  fol- 

^ “ Kinastonum,  Galfridiorem  * * Chaucero.” — William  Strode  to  the 
Translator. 


78  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

lowed  the  order  of  the  original.  Kinaston  tells  us  that 
it  would  have  been  far  easier  for  him  to  have  put  it 
into  classical  hexameters  and  pentameters.  He  chose 
deliberately,  however,  the  measure  which  has  been  de- 
scribed, though  in  many  ways  it  was  far  more  difficult, 
especially  so  on  account  of  the  monosyllabic  character 
of  the  English  tongue.  It  is  plain  that  he  anticipated 
a good  deal  of  criticism  for  adopting  this  plan.  In  his 
preface  and  dedications  he  aimed  to  break  the  force  of 
any  hostile  comments  that  might  be  made  upon  his 
verse  by  certain  distinctly  uncomplimentary  references 
to  the  crabbed  Aristarchs  of  the  fastidious  age,  and  by 
obvious  allusions  to  the  stolid  and  asinine  ears  of  its 
sciolists. 

The  work  is  a curious  one,  alike  for  the  motives  that 
dictated  it,  and  the  end  it  sought  to  accomplish.  It  is 
one  of  several  examples  that  give  us  an  insight  into  the 
feelings  that  men  entertained  at  that  time  both  about 
the  past  and  the  future  of  our  speech.  Of  this  there 
will  be  need  to  speak  in  detail  when  we  come  to  the 
eighteenth  century.  Here  it  is  merely  necessary  to 
call  attention  to  the  reasons  that  largely  led  to  the  turn- 
ing of  the  poet’s  writings  into  Latin.  Kinaston  tells  us 
that  he  saw  Chaucer  coming  daily  to  be  held  in  cheaper 
estimation  while  clothed  in  the  despised  garments  of 
the  ancient  English  tongue.  More  than  that,  he  saw 
him  wasting  away  and,  indeed,  almost  dead.  From  that 
deplorable  condition  he  determined  to  rescue  his  repu- 
tation, so  far  as  it  lay  in  his  power ; to  prop  it  up  and 
secure  it  by  the  everlasting  pillars  of  the  Roman  speech. 
Thereby  his  fame  would  be  made  stable  and  immovable 


KINASTON’S  LATIN  TRANSLATION  79 

for  all  ages.  It  was  with  this  object  in  view  that  he 
had  turned  ‘Troilus  and  Cressida’  into  Latin  verse.  If 
we  could  believe  the  writers  of  the  introductory  pieces 
who  celebrated  his  undertaking  in  complimentary  lines, 
the  end  he  aimed  at  had  been  accomplished.  The  name 
of  Chaucer  would  no  longer  be  limited  by  the  narrow 
bounds  of  language  and  country.  He  would  henceforth 
be  read  wherever  men  read  poetry  at  all.  What  was 
lost  to  England,  the  world  would  find.  The  translation 
would  become  the  original.  Chaucer’s  fame  might  die 
in  the  changing  tongue  in  which  he  wrote,  but  what  he 
wrote  would  live  forever  in  the  Latin  of  Kinaston. 

A certain  kind  of  interest  and  value  attaches  to  the 
commendatory  poems  that  were  prefixed  to  this  version. 
They  were  fifteen  in  number.  Nine  of  the  contributors 
expressed  their  feelings  in  Latin,  five  in  English,  and 
one  in  both  tongues.  None  of  these  writers  can  now  be 
said  to  be  known  at  all  to  fame,  with  the  exception  of 
William  Cartwright.  It  is  not,  to  be  sure,  in  praises 
that  appear  in  regulation  verses  of  this  sort,  which  con- 
vention would  demand  if  friendship  did  not  voluntarily 
pay,  that  we  expect  to  find  either  literature  of  a very 
high  grade  or  criticism  of  a very  discriminating  kind. 
We  can  indeed  be  certain  that  in  some  of  these  trib- 
utes to  the  memory  of  the  dead  author  which  accom- 
panied the  verses  of  the  living  one,  the  praise  as  well  as 
the  poetry  was  of  a purely  perfunctory  character.  But 
however  valueless  they  may  be  in  the  matter  of  inspira- 
tion, they  present  a definite  amount  of  evidence  as  to 
the  sentiment  about  Chaucer  then  prevalent  in  the  edu- 
cated class.  This  evidence  must,  indeed,  be  taken  with 


8o 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


due  grains  of  allowance ; for  the  main  object  of  these 
commendatory  pieces  was  to  enforce  the  desirability  and 
even  the  necessity  of  the  Latin  translation  that  had  been 
undertaken.  Yet  in  productions  written  to  order,  least 
of  all  would  any  one  have  outraged  the  general  senti- 
ment of  his  time  by  expressing  views  which  it  was  not 
decorous  to  hold.  An  examination  of  these  poems  will 
therefore  furnish  us  with  a certain  amount  of  informa- 
tion which  may  be  deemed  fairly  trustworthy.  It  will 
show  that  even  then  the  same  variation  of  view  existed 
which,  as  we  shall  find,  Dryden  subsequently  pointed 
out  with  his  usual  clearness  and  sharpness.  Two  opin- 
ions were  held  in  regard  to  Chaucer.  By  one  class  he 
was  looked  upon  as  the  rude  writer  of  a rude  age.  His 
language  was  obsolete,  his  diction  was  uncouth,  his  ver- 
sification was  rugged.  By  the  other,  he  Avas  regarded 
as  a clear,  graceful,  and  polished  poet.  Of  these  two 
classes  more  will  be  said  later;  all  that  is  here  essential  is 
to  indicate  their  existence  then.  From  the  tone  of  these 
introductory  pieces,  it  is  a natural  inference  that  the  sup- 
porters of  the  former  view  were  largely  in  the  majority. 
This  is  doubtless  not  conclusive  testimony.  Still,  if  they 
were  not  in  the  majority,  no  real  reason  could  be  given 
for  undertaking  the  work  which  they  had  been  called 
upon  to  commend.  There  was,  however,  a general  agree- 
ment as  to  the  existence  of  one  unfortunate  condition  of 
things.  The  poetry  of  Chaucer  lay  almost  neglected. 
Though  he  was  not  dead,  he  was  out  of  fashion.  Not 
every  one  was  capable  of  reading  his  works ; few  pre- 
sumed to  understand  them.  For  this  there  was  but  one 
remedy : that  was  to  turn  his  writings  into  Latin. 


KINASTON’S  LATIN  TRANSLATION 


8 


Through  this  medium  they  would  come  to  be  known 
and  read  of  all  men. 

Kinaston  finished  the  translation  of  the  three  remain- 
ing books  of  ‘ Troilus  and  Cressida,’  as  also  of  Henry- 
son’s  ‘ Testament  of  Cressida.’  The  completed  version 
was  prepared  for  publication,  and  received  the  impri- 
matur of  the  licenser;  but  for  some  reason  it  was  never 
printed.  He  had  written,  moreover,  a series  of  annota- 
tions upon  the  work  both  in  English  and  in  Latin.  The 
manuscripts  containing  the  two  texts  and  commentaries 
were,  and  probably  still  are,  in  existence.  They  were 
for  a time  in  the  hands  of  Dr.  Henry  Aldrich,  who,  in 
1689,  became  dean  of  Christ  Church.  From  them  Urry 
procured  some  notes  to  be  transcribed  for  his  edition. 
They  then  passed  for  a long  while  from  public  notice. 
In  March,  1793,  they  were  sold  with  the  library  of  the 
Rev.  J.  H.  Hindley,  and  purchased  by  Francis  Godol- 
phin  Waldron,  a player  and  play-writer  connected  with 
Drury  Lane  Theatre.  In  1796  he  printed  a small  pam- 
phlet containing  the  first  twelve  stanzas  of  ‘Troilus  and 
Cressida,’  with  Kinaston ’s  notes  upon  them  and  with 
some  additional  notes  of  his  own.  In  the  advertise- 
ment, he  gave  notice  that  the  original  poem  with  the 
English  commentary  would  be  first  brought  out;  and 
if  this  should  receive  the  patronage  of  the  learned, 
it  would  be  followed  by  the  Latin  version  and  its  cor- 
responding Latin  commentary.  But  nothing  further 
ever  appeared.  It  is  perhaps  unfortunate  that  Kinas- 
ton’s  English  commentary  was  never  published.  His 
few  notes  that  were  printed  were  valuable  and  accu- 
rate ; and  it  is  not  absolutely  impossible  that  he  rhay 
IIL— 6 


82 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


have  had  access  to  sources  of  information  that  have  now 
disappeared. 

To  us  of  the  present  day  it  seems  a deliciously  absurd 
plan  to  make  the  works  of  Chaucer  known  to  English- 
men by  translating  them  into  Latin.  That  it  was  ab- 
surd must  be  conceded.  But  it  was  far  from  being  so 
absurd  as  it  now  seems.  Especially  was  it  far  from 
seeming  absurd  to  the  men  of  that  time.  They  had  no 
conception  whatever  of  the  forces  that  give  stability  to 
language,  or  that  regulate  its  development.  The  Eng- 
lish tongue  was  in  their  eyes  in  a state  of  perpetual  flux, 
and  the  writings  of  their  own  day  would,  in  process  of 
time,  become  unintelligible  to  the  generations  that  suc- 
ceeded. The  only  hope  for  him  who  sought  for  perma- 
nence of  fame  was  to  bring  out  his  works  in  a language 
like  the  Latin,  which  underwent  no  change  and  had  be- 
fore it  the  assurance  of  perpetual  existence.  This  feel- 
ing was  doubtless  more  prevalent  among  scholars  than 
among  men  of  letters ; but  it  was  to  be  found,  more  or  less, 
in  both  classes.  It  is  well  known  that  Bacon  devoted 
no  small  part  of  his  later  life  to  translating,  or  rather  to 
having  translated,  into  Latin  his  English  works.  His 
avowed  reason  was  that  by  this  means  only  could  he 
hope  to  have  his  productions  handed  down  to  later 
times.  “ It  is  true,”  he  writes  about  1623,  “ my  labors 
are  now  most  set  to  have  those  works  which  I had  for- 
merly published,  as  that  of  Advancement  of  Learning, 
that  of  Henry  VIE,  that  of  the  Essays  being  retractate 
and  made  more  perfect,  well  translated  into  Latin  by 
the  help  of  some  good  pens  which  forsake  me  not.  For 
these  modern  languages  will  at  one  time  or  other  play 


LATIN  TRANSLATIONS 


83 


the  bankrupt  with  books ; and  since  I have  lost  much 
time  with  this  age,  I would  be  glad,  as  God  shall  give 
me  leave,  to  recover  it  with  posterity.’'  This  is  the  view 
taken  by  the  wisest  man  of  his  time ; nor  is  the  passage 
quoted  the  solitary  instance  in  which  it  is  expressed.  In 
the  dedication  to  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  of  the  edi- 
tion of  his  ‘ Essays,’  printed  in  1625,  he  speaks  with  justi- 
fiable pride  of  the  success  with  which  the  work  had  met, 
and  with  curious  incapacity  to  comprehend  the  future  of 
the  tongue  in  which  it  was  written.  “ I do  conceive,” 
he  says  of  these  productions,  “ that  the  Latin  volume  of 
them  (being  in  the  universal  language)  may  last  as  long 
as  books  last.” 

Singular  as  such  remarks  may  seem,  coming  from  a 
man  of  Bacon’s  perspicacity,  they  are  neither  unexam- 
pled nor  were  they  thought  to  be  erroneous.  Waller,  in 
his  famous  lines  on  English  verse,  expressed  the  feeling 
that  widely,  and  perhaps  generally,  prevailed.  It  was 
hopeless  for  him  who  wrote  in  a daily  changing  tongue 
to  expect  genuine  immortality.  Envy  attacks  him  while 
he  is  living,  and  the  language  fails  him  when  he  is  dead. 
Palaces  built  with  ill-chosen  stone  soon  crumble  to  de- 
cay. Herein  lay  the  superiority  of  the  classic  tongues  as 
a means  for  reaching  the  generations  to  come.  Waller 
assures  us  that 

“ Poets  that  lasting  marble  seek 
Must  carve  in  Latin  or  in  Greek ; 

We  write  in  sand,  our  language  grows, 

And  like  the  tide,  our  work  o’erflows.”  ^ 

* These  lines  were  first  included  were  probably  written  considerably 
in  the  third  edition  of  Waller’s  earlier. 

Poe7ns,  published  in  1668,  but  they 


84  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

It  is  characteristic  of  Waller  that  he  finds  consolation 
for  this  unfortunate  condition  of  things  in  the  reflection 
that  it  still  remains  possible  for  the  poet  to  gain  by  his 
verse  the  favor  of  the  fair.  The  applause  of  after-ages 
may  not  be  his.  For  that,  however,  ample  amends  is 
made  by  the  praise  of  living  beauty.  It  is  enough  for 
him  if  his  lines  have  the  brief  term  of  existence  that  be- 
longs to  its  fading  charms.  If  by  what  he  has  written 
he  has  succeeded  in  securing  the  approbation  of  the 
beautiful,  he  has  written  to  sufficient  purpose.  This,  he 
tells  us,  is  the  reward  that  Chaucer  received.  The  refer- 
ence to  him  is  noteworthy,  because  it  exhibits  the  liter- 
ary opinion  of  the  seventeenth  century  upon  the  original 
harmony  of  his  versification  and  the  fate  that  had  over- 
taken it.  In  this  piece  the  early  poet  makes  his  first 
appearance  as  the  chosen  example  of  the  havoc  which 
time  works  with  speech — a part  he  was  afterwards  des- 
tined to  play  constantly  and  conspicuously.  According 
to  Waller, 

I “ Chaucer  his  sense  can  only  boast, 

The  glory  of  his  numbers  lost ; 

Years  have  defaced  his  matchless  strain, 

And  yet  he  did  not  live  in  vain.” 

With  views  of  this  kind  widely  prevalent,  there  need  be 
little  wonder  that  Latin  was  looked  upon  by  many  as 
the  only  secure  medium  through  which  they  could  hope 
to  speak  to  posterity. 

Time  naturally  has  demonstrated  in  every  experiment 
that  has  been  tried  the  falsity  of  this  belief.  Kinaston’s 
version,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say,  did  not  realize  the 
anticipations  with  which  it  was  greeted.  It  neither  ex- 


CHAUCER  AFTER  THE  RESTORATION  85 

tended  the  fame  of  Chaucer  to  foreign  lands,  nor  did  it 
build  it  up  at  home.  The  expectation,  indeed,  was  as 
vain  as  the  method  was  ridiculous.  Even  had  both  been 
otherwise,  the  time  was  unpropitious.  The  days  that 
followed  were  not  the  days  for  increasing  reputations 
that  were  merely  literary.  It  is  not  during  the  stormy 
scenes  of  the  civil  war,  or  the  political  agitations  that 
preceded  the  iron  rule  of  Cromwell,  that  we  are  likely  to 
find  much  mention  made  of  a poet  so  remote  in  point  of 
time  and  speech.  Record  of  him  there  doubtless  is,  but 
it  lurks  in  unsuspected  places,  in  unread  volumes,  and  will 
be  brought  to  light  only  by  chance  or  the  combined  labor 
of  scholars.  It  is  not  till  we  enter  upon  the  period  of 
the  Restoration  that  the  name  of  the  poet  begins  to 
occur  outside  of  that  vague  and  indefinite  way  in  which 
authors  are  talked  of  whom  it  is  reputable  to  mention, 
but  not  common  to  read.  One  of  the  earliest  of  these 
notices  has  fallen  under  the  eyes  of  many ; for  it  is  to 
be  found  in  the  perpetually  delightful  pages  of  the  only 
man  who  ever  had  the  courage  to  keep  an  honest  diary. 
It  was  on  the  14th  of  June,  1663,  that  Pepys  was  at  the 
residence  of  Sir  William  Penn,  where  a number  of  per- 
sons had  assembled.  Among  the  rest,”  he  writes,  “ Sir 
John  Mennis  brought  many  fine  expressions  of  Chaucer, 
which  he  doats  on  mightily  ; and  without  doubt  he  is  a 
fine  poet.” 

Mennis  was  a controller  of  the  navy.  As  a man  of 
business  he  found  little  favor  in  the  eyes  of  the  Clerk 
of  the  Acts,  who  in  one  place  speaks  of  him  as  having 
'‘gone  to  the  fleet,  like  a floating  fool,  to  do  no  good, 
but  proclaim  himself  an  ass.”  Still,  the  possession  of 


86 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


certain  good  qualities  was  accorded  him  by  his  critic. 
His  conversation  during  that  evening  clearly  made  an 
impression  upon  the  mind  of  Pepys.  On  the  loth  of 
December  of  the  same  year  the  latter’s  diary  records 
him  as  having  visited  his  bookseller  in  St.  Paul’s  Church- 
yard, and  there  turning  over  some  twenty  volumes  to  de- 
termine what  ones  of  them  he  should  purchase.  ‘ Chau- 
cer’ was  among  the  number,  but  he  did  not  buy  it  upon 
that  occasion.  The  temptation,  however,  must  have 
been  before  his  mind  constantly.  As  in  the  case  of 
every  genuine  book-hunter,  it  was  merely  a question  of 
time  when  he  should  yield.  Yield  he  did,  though  he 
mentions  neither  the  date  nor  the  circumstances.  Still, 
on  the  8th  of  July,  1664,  we  find  him  going  to  the  bind- 
er’s and  directing  ‘‘  the  doing  of  my  Chaucer,  though 
they  were  not  full  neat  enough  for  me,  but  pretty  well 
it  is ; and  thence  to  the  clasp-maker’s  to  have  it  clasped 

and  bossed.”  The  diarist  was  not  content  with  merely 

« 

having  it  bound  and  clasped  and  bossed.  He  read  it. 
Shortly  after  we  find  him  with  the  noted  arithmetician 
Cocker,  who  was  engraving  for  him  the  tables  upon  his 
new  sliding  rules,  and  who  tells  him  that  he  can  cut 
best  small  things  by  artificial  light.  This  is  contrary, 
Pepys  gravely  adds,  to  Chaucer’s  words  to  the  sun^ 
that  he  should  lend  his  light  to  them  “that  small  seals 
grave.”  We  gain  also  from  the  diary  the  impression  that 
the  early  author  was  well  known  to  the  arithmetician. 
Pepys  found  “ the  fellow,  by  his  discourse,  very  ingenu- 
ous ; and  among  other  things,  a great  admirer  and  well 
read  in  the  English  poets,  and  undertakes  to  judge  of 


^ Troihis  and  Cressida,  iii.,  1462. 


CHAUCER  AFTER  TFIE  RESTORATION 


87 


them  all,  and  that  not  impertinently.”  ^ It  is  also  to  be 
remarked  that  it  was  at  the  instance  of  Pepys  that  Dry- 
den  produced  his  imitation  of  the  character  of  the  Par- 
son in  the  general  Prologue  to  the  ‘Canterbury  Tales.’ 
It  was  doubtless  as  much  to  satisfy  his  friend  as  himself 
that  he  turned  the  parish  priest  of  the  fourteenth  century 
into  a non-juring  divine  of  the  seventeenth.  For  the  ap- 
parent anachronism  of  imputing  to  the  subjects  of  Henry 
IV.  the  acts  and  feelings  of  the  subjects  of  William  and 
Mary  he  has  been  taken  severely  to  task  by  many  critics 
who  have  not  troubled  themselves  to  become  familiar 
with  the  precise  nature  and  avowed  object  of  the  piece. 
Pepys  assuredly  did  not  grieve  over  the  alteration.  He 
told  Dryden  that  he  had  truly  obliged  him,  and  that,  in 
saying  so,  he  was  more  in  earnest  than  could  be  readily 
thought ; “ as  verily  hoping,”  he  added,  “ from  this  your 
copy  of  one  good  parson  to  fancy  some  amends  made 
me  for  the  hourly  offence  I bear  with  from  the  sight  of 
so  many  lewd  originals.”^ 

I have  gone  somewhat  fully  into  these  details  because 
they  set  before  our  eyes  a body  of  men  of  whose  existence 
we  should  not  have  a conception  were  we  to  confine  our- 
selves to  the  popular  literature  of  the  day.  Not  that  by 
its  authors  the  early  poet  is  wholly  unmentioned  or  unre- 
garded. Sir  John  Mennis,  just  spoken  of,  is  an  illustra- 
tion to  the  contrary.  He  is,  indeed,  a marked  instance 
of  the  enthusiastic  feeling  entertained  for  Chaucer  in 
quarters  where  it  would  be  little  expected.  He  was,  to 
be  sure,  graduated  at  Oxford,  and  Anthony  Wood  tells 
us  that,  in  his  earlier  years  at  least,  he  was  “ more  ad- 

^ Diary ^ Aug.  ii,  1664.  ^ Malone’s  Dryden,  vol.  ii.,  p.  86. 


88 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


dieted  to  the  superficial  parts  of  learning,  poetry  and 
oratory,  wherein  he  excelled,  than  logic  and  philosophy.” 
Still,  his  life,  like  that  of  most  men  of  any  prominence 
during  that  period,  had  been  principally  spent  in  active 
pursuits.  He  had  been  in  the  navy,  and  had  reached  the 
rank  of  rear  admiral.  At  the  time  of  which  we  are  speak- 
ing he  was  holding  an  important  official  position.  But 
he  made  a good  deal  of  pretension  to  literature.  In 
truth,  he  was  so  much  a man  of  letters  that  Sir  William 
Coventry  swore  to  Pepys  that  his  inefficiency  was  so 
conspicuous  that  he  would  henceforth  be  against  a wit 
being  employed  in  business.  He  has  left  us  a work 
upon  which  this  reputation  was  largely  founded.  In 
1656  he  had  published,  in  conjunction  with  the  Rev.  Dr. 
James  Smith,  a collection  of  poems  entitled  the  ‘ Muses’ 
Recreation,’  containing  several  pieces  of  poetic  wit.  It 
has  had  the  distinction  to  be  twice  reprinted  in  modern 
times,  though  the  general  criticism  can  be  fairly  miade 
of  these  pieces  of  poetic  wit,  as  they  were  called,  that  in 
them  the  wit  is  of  a very  thin  quality  and  the  poetry  of 
a far  thinner.  There  is  much  in  the  work  that  is  coarse, 
though  its  coarseness  is  rather  of  the  kind  that  upsets 
the  stomach  than  that  which  inflames  the  passions.  In- 
deed, from  the  specimens  of  his  own  composition  that 
Mennis  has  left  behind,  the  critic  of  these  days  would  be 
amply  justified  in  stating  Sir  William  Coventry’s  opinion 
in  a reversed  form,  and  declaring  that  he  would  be  forever 
against  a man  of  business  attempting  to  set  up  for  a wit. 

Mennis  may  be  regarded,  however,  as  belonging  to  the 
period  before  the  civil  war  in  his  tastes  and  sympathies, 
and  as  continuing  to  retain  the  feelings  and  views  that 


BRAITHWAITE’S  COMMENT  89 

were  prevalent  in  his  youth.  But  we  have  a still  more 
interesting  example  at  that  time  of  what  had  once  been 
the  accepted  doctrine  in  Richard  Braithwaite,  who  in  a 
genuine  sense  had  come  down  from  the  Elizabethans. 
In  1665  he  brought  out  a little  volume  upon  Chaucer. 
No  name  appears  upon  the  title-page,  but  the  author’s 
initials  occur  in  the  dedication.  The  work  purports  to 
be  ‘'A  Comment  upon  the  Two  Tales  of  our  ancient,  re- 
nowned, and  ever-living  poet.  Sir  J effray  Chaucer,  Knight, 
who  for  his  rich  fancy,  pregnant  invention,  and  present 
composure  deserved  the  countenance  of  a prince  and  his 
laureat  honor.”  The  two  tales  are  those  of  the  Miller 
and  the  Wife  of  Bath.  As,  however,  the  prologue  in 
each  case  was  included,  the  number  of  lines  subjected  to 
examination  was  consequently  doubled.  This  work,  the 
author  tells  us,  had  been  “ begun  and  finished  in  his 
blooming  years,  when  the  heat  of  conceit  more  than  the 
depth  of  intellect  dictated  to  his  pen.”  Of  course  he 
published  it,  as  every  one  in  those  days  professed  to 
publish,  only  at  the  instance  of  friends,  in  this  case  at 
the  instance  of  “ sundry  persons  of  quality”  in  particular. 
They  urged  him  not  to  stop  with  the  part  he  had  com- 
pleted. Their  perusal  of  these  comments,  he  tells  us, 
“begot  that  influence  over  the  clear  and  weighty  judg- 
ments of  the  strictest  and  rigidest  censors,  as  their  high 
approvement  of  them  induced  their  importunity  to  the 
author  to  go  on  with  the  rest,  as  he  had  successfully 
done  with  these  two  first ; ingenuously  protesting  that 
they  had  not  read  any  subject  discoursing  by  way  of  il- 
lustration and  running  descant  on  such  light  but  harm- 
less fancies  more  handsomely  couched  nor  modestly 


go  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

shadowed.”  But  Braithwaite  was  now  nearing  his  eigh- 
tieth year.  He  had  no  notion  of  spending  the'  few  days 
of  his  life  that  remained  on  any  toys  of  this  sort.  Chau- 
cer suffered  no  loss  by  his  refusal.  For  anything  so  bar- 
ren as  his  remarks  upon  these  poems  we  should  have  to 
go  to  a great  deal  of  the  commentary  that  has  been 
written  on  Shakspeare.  He  imparts  no  information 
which  the  reader  could  not  and  would  not  have  discov- 
ered for  himself.  He  not  infrequently  misunderstands 
the  meaning  of  what  he  sets  out  to  expound.  His  com- 
ments, moreover,  are  written  in  that  wearisome  artificial 
style  of  which  some  of  the  minor  Elizabethans  possessed 
the  secret  and  fortunately  failed  to  hand  down  the  knowl- 
edge. There  is  a perpetual  effort  to  say  pointless  things 
in  a pointed  way.  The  same  thought  is  repeated  again 
and  again,  with  every  possible  variation  of  phrase.  The 
petty  antithesis  of  words,  to  which  there  is  little  cor- 
responding antithesis  of  ideas,  occurs  constantly.  The 
effect  upon  the  mind,  to  use  Braithwaite’s  own  affected 
style,  is  naturally  to  arouse  the  feeling  that  the  proffer 
of  the  writer  is  promising,  but  his  performance  mean ; 
that  when  he  speaketh  least,  he  prevaileth  most ; that 
where  he  striveth  hardest  to  make  most  mirth,  his  read- 
er hath  greatest  cause  to  mourn  ; that  while  the  desire 
to  get  through  with  his  remarks  continually  groweth 
stronger,  the  ability  to  keep  on  with  the  perusal  of  them 
steadily  becometh  weaker;  that,  in  fine,  by  how  much 
the  more  the  man  who  taketh  up  the  work  readeth  it,  by 
so  much  the  more  he  is  bored. 

Braithwaite,  indeed,  is  interesting  to  us  only  as  a sur- 
vival ; but  in  that  light  he  is  very  interesting.  He  holds 


PHILLIPS’S  ACCOUNT  OF  CHAUCER 


91 


firmly  to  the  traditions  of  the  Elizabethan  period.  For 
him  Chaucer  still  remains  the  incomparable  poet,  the 
English  Homer,  the  famous,  the  ever-living.  Could  his 
life  be  renewed  his  ‘‘youthful  genius  could  not  bestow 
his  endeavor  on  any  author  with  more  pleasure  nor  com- 
placency to  fancy  than  the  illustrations  of  Chaucer.”  It 
is  clear  from  examples  like  these  that  there  were  still 
men  who  reckoned  the  earliest  of  English  poets  as  the 
greatest.  It  is  equally  clear  that  most  of  them  were 
either  old  themselves  or  were  more  or  less  antiquarian  in 
their  tastes.  That  while  this  estimate  had  been  once  the 
prevalent  feeling,  it  was  so  no  longer,  is  evident  from 
the  work  entitled  ‘ Theatrum  Poetarum  Anglicanorum  ’ 
which  Edward  Phillips,  the  nephew  of  Milton,  brought 
out  in  1675.  In  this  volume  Chaucer  is  represented  as 
having  been  generally  reputed  the  prince  and  Coryphaeus 
of  English  poets  “ till  this  age.”  The  phrase  in  quota- 
tion marks  is  significant.  Warton,  it  is  to  be  added, 
professed  to  see  in  this  work  of  Phillips  many  traces  of 
Milton's  hand.  Since  that  writer's  day  the  assertion  has 
been  repeated  so  often  that  it  has  come  to  be  looked 
upon  as  an  unquestionable  fact.  It  is  more  than  doubt- 
ful. The  account,  for  instance,  of  Chaucer,  brief  as  it  is, 
is  full  of  the  grossest  blunders.  Had  it  been  known  to 
Milton,  it  could  hardly  have  failed  to  be  corrected  out 
of  existence.  Still,  there  is  no  reason  for  denying  that, 
in  the  critical  estimates  he  gave,  Phillips  represented  * 
fairly  enough  the  prevalent  opinion  of  his  time.  His 
words  imply  that  Chaucer  had  been  superseded  by  later 
poets  in  the  eyes  of  most.  To  corroborate  that  assertion 
there  is  plenty  of  other  evidence. 


92  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

The  fact,  however,  that  there  had  finally  begun  to  be 
a demand  for  his  writings  which  existing  copies  could 
not  satisfy  is  made  certain  by  the  reprint  in  1687  of 
Speght’s  edition  of  1602.  No  publisher’s  name  appears 
on  the  title-page ; but  the  page  containing  an  “ adver- 
tisement to  the  reader”  is  signed  J.  H.,  who  states  that 
for  some  years  past  he  has  been  greatly  solicited  by 
many  learned  and  worthy  gentlemen  to  reprint  Chau- 
cer’s works,  and  that  he  has  at  length  performed  the  ob- 
ligation laid  upon  him  long  before.  Even  the  mere  re- 
publication of  so  extensive  a work  is  conclusive  proof  of 
a genuine  demand  ; for  it  is  a large  and  well-printed  folio. 
The  expense  must  have  been  increased  also  by  the  em- 
ployment of  black-letter,  which  had  somehow  come  to 
be  considered  as  absolutely  essential  to  the  production 
of  Chaucer’s  poetry.  Kinaston’s  two  books  of  ‘Troilus 
and  Cressida’  had  been  so  printed;  and  even  the  lines 
that  had  been  quoted  in  Braithwaite’s  volume  had  been 
carefully  put  into  that  kind  of  type. 

The  details  which  have  been  given,  but  especially  the 
publication  of  this  folio  of  1687,  show  the  existence  of 
a public  to  which  the  poet  already  appealed,  and  was 
beginning  to  appeal  still  more.  They  are  essentially 
different  in  thejr  nature  from  the  incidental  references 
to  him,  that  are  not  infrequent.  These  latter  are  no 
proof  whatever  of  acquaintance  with  his  writings.  They 
convey  to  us  no  assurance  of  anything  beyond  the  mere 
fact  that  a poet  bearing  his  name  was  known  to  have 
once  existed.  Yalden,  to  take  one  instance  out  of  many, 
in  his  epistolary  ode  to  Congreve,  written  in  1693, 
spoke  of  the  “ tuneful  Chaucer.”  Mention  of  this  sort 


SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY  REFERENCES  93 

is  purely  perfunctory.  It  implies  no  knowledge ; and 
if  it  did,  it  would  carry  no  weight  with  the  men  of  a 
generation  to  whom  Yalden  himself  is  tuneful  no  more. 
These  references  are  apt  to  occur  in  pieces  that  set  out 
to  give  a glance  at  the  development  of  English  poetry. 
In  them,  there  are  generally  two  characteristics  worth 
noting.  They  show  that  much  of  Chaucer’s  work  re- 
mained unknown  even  to  those  who  to  some  extent 
read  him.  As  a result  of  this  ignorance,  the  point  of 
view  from  which  he  was  regarded  had  undergone  a 
marked  change  of  position.  The  first  thing  that  strikes 
the  reader  of  the  poems  of  this  period  in  which  the 
early  poet  is  introduced  is  the  fact  that  it  is  to  his 
comic  vein  that  the  attention  is  mainly  and,  indeed, 
almost  exclusively  directed.  Of  the  mingled  tender- 
ness and  strength  which  is  found  in  his  writings  there 
is  apparently  no  knowledge.  Of  the  exquisite  felicity 
that  characterizes  his  expression  constantly,  of  the  dig- 
nity and  grandeur  that  inspire  it  occasionally,  the  men 
of  that  day  seem  not  to  have  had  even  a dream.  It  is 
his  humor,  his  jollity,  that  is  the  one  thing  for  which, 
in  their  eyes,  he  is  worthy  of  regard.  As  it  is  put  by 
the  younger  Evelyn  in  his  poem  on  the  ‘ Immortality 
of  Poesie,’  in  which  he  records  the  principal  English 
authors, 

“ Old  Chaucer  shall  for  his  facetious  style 
Be  read  and  praised  by  warlike  Britons  while 
The  sea  enriches  and  defends  their  isle.”  ^ 

The  second  conclusion  that  can  be  drawn  from-  these 

^ On  page  90  of  Poems  by  Several  Collected  by  N.  Tate,  London, 
Hands  and  on  Several  Occasions.  1685. 


94 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


references  is,  that  to  most  men  the  interest  in  the  poet 
had  become  an  historic  interest,  and  not  a personal  one. 
This,  of  course,  was  not  true  of  all.  There  were  those 
whose  tributes  to  Chaucer’s  greatness  were  based  upon 
knowledge  of  what  he  had  written,  as  well  as  upon  the 
fact  that  he  had  written  at  an  early  period.  In  a poem, 
for  instance,  of  Sir  Aston  Cokayne,  printed  in  1658,  one 
of  the  characters  in  it  is  advised  to  go  to  London,  where 

“ thou  upon  the  sepulchre  mayst  look 
Of  Chaucer,  our  true  Ennius,  whose  old  book 
Hath  taught  our  nation  so  to  poetize 
That  English  rhythms  now  may  equalize  ; 

That  we  no  more  need  envy  at  the  strain 
Of  Tiber,  Tagus,  or  our  neighbor  Seine.”  ^ 

Rarely,  however,  was  even  so  much  appreciation  as 
this  exhibited.  The  view  that  was  generally  taken  was 
expressed  by  Chetwood  in  the  lines  commending  Ros- 
common’s ‘ Essay  on  Translated  Verse.’  In  them  Chau- 
cer was  celebrated  as  the  one  who  “founded  the  Muses’ 
empire  on  our  soil.”  This  is  the  light  in  which  he  al- 
most invariably  appeared  to  those  who  took  any  survey 
of  English  poetry  as  a whole.  He  was  to  none  of  them 
a living,  breathing  force,  as  he  had  been  to  Spenser  in 
the  century  previous.  The  change  of  view  is  denoted 
by  a change  of  epithet.  He  is  no  longer  the  English 
Homer;  he  is  the  English  Ennius.  He  is  no  longer 
designated  as  learned  ; he  is  old.  One  illustration  of 
the  latter  has  just  been  given  in  the  quotation  taken 
from  Evelyn.  There  is  a more  famous  one  in  the  lines 

^ ‘A  Remedy  for  Love,’  in  A Aston  Cokayne  (London,  1658), 
Chain  of  Goldeji  Poems,  by  Sir  p.  8. 


ADDISON  ON  CHAUCER 


95 


in  which  Sir  John  Denham  commemorated  the  death 
of  Cowley  in  1667,  and  his  canonization  among  Eng- 
lish poets.  It  is  in  this  way  his  eulogy  opened : 

“ Old  Chaucer,  like  the  morning  star, 

To  us  discovers  day  from  far; 

His  light  those  mists  and  clouds  dissolved 
Which  our  dark  nation  long  involved  ; 

But  he  descending  to  the  shades. 

Darkness  again  the  age  invades.” 

As  Chaucer  was  recognized  as  the  founder  of  the 
line  of  English  poets,  he  was  always  treated  with  re- 
spectful consideration  by  those  who  mentioned  him, 
however  little  familiarity  they  might  have  with  what 
he  had  written.  Deference  was  felt  to  be  due  to  his 
antiquity  if  not  to  his  verse.  To  this  regular  approval 
there  is  but  one  exception.  It  is,  however,  a notable 
one.  It  is  to  be  found  in  that  extraordinary  account  of 
the  greatest  English  poets  which  forms  the  subject  of 
the  rymed  epistle  which  Addison  addressed  to  Sachev- 
erell.  It  was  in  this  way  that  he  spoke  of  Chaucer : 

“ Long  had  our  dull  forefathers  slept  supine. 

Nor  felt  the  raptures  of  the  tuneful  Nine  ; 

Till  Chaucer  first,  a merry  bard,  arose. 

And  many  a story  told  in  ryme  and  prose. 

But  age  has  rusted  what  the  poet  writ. 

Worn  out  his  language  and  obscured  his  wit : 

In  vain  he  jests  in  his  unpolished  strain. 

And  tries  to  make  his  readers  laugh  in  vain.” 

After  this  it  need  not  surprise  us  to  find  numerous 
comments  of  an  equally  sage  character.  Spenser,  we 
are  told,  ‘‘  in  ancient  tales  amused  a barbarous  age,” 


96  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

but  he  can  no  longer  charm  “the  understanding  age” 
that  has  succeeded.  Sprat,  and  Roscommon,  and  Mon- 
tague, and  several  other  poetasters  whom  the  world  has 
been  very  well  content  to  forget,  are  to  be  found  in  this 
list  of  the  greatest  English  poets.  They  are  mentioned 
in  terms  that  would  not  have  been  out  of  place  in  speak- 
ing of  men  of  the  highest  genius. 

This  epistle  was  first  published  in  1694,  in  the  fourth 
of  the  series  of  poetical  miscellanies  that  came  out  un- 
der the  supervision  of  Dryden.  It  is  itself  dated  the 
3d  of  April.  When  he  wrote  it,  Addison  was  conse- 
quently a little  under  twenty-two  years  of  age.  This 
fact  may  be  pleade,d  in  extenuation  of  this  gratuitous 
exhibition  of  lack  of  knowledge  and  of  taste.  Rut 
while  it  may  extenuate,  it  cannot  justify  it.  Even  at 
twenty-two  a man  is  under  no  absolute  compulsion  to 
talk  of  matters  of  which  he  knows  little  or  nothing.  If 
we  can  trust  Spence,  Pope  used  to  speak  of  this  poem 
as  a poor  thing.  He  would  have  been  justified  in  using 
an  adjective  much  stronger.  According  to  the  same 
authority,  he  is  represented  as  saying  that  Addison  had 
told  him  that  he  had  never  read  Spenser  till  fifteen  years 
after  he  had  produced  this  choice  epistle.  It  is  hardly 
safe  to  rely  upon  this  report.  The  lines  about  Spenser 
imply  a certain  degree  of  familiarity  with  his  writings 
which  could  not  well  have  been  gained  without  actual 
perusal.  The  assertion  would  not,  however,  have  been 
a subject  of  doubt  had  it  been  made  of  the  earlier  poet. 
Nor  is  there  any  reason  to  believe  that  his  stock  of 
knowledge  about  the  latter  was  ever  increased.  I can- 
not find  that  in  all  of  Addison’s  writings,  touching  as 


ADDISON  ON  CHAUCER 


97 


they  constantly  do  upon  matters  connected  with  litera- 
ture, that  he  ever  referred  to  more  than  one  produc- 
tion of  Chaucer’s  ; and  that  was  to  one  which  Chaucer 
did  not  writed 


^ The  spurious  ‘ Remedy  of  Love,’  wishing  to  praise  Chaucer’s  num- 
found  in  the  earlier  editions,  is  the  hers,  compares  them  with  Dryden’s 
piece  referred  to  ; and  the  allusion  own.”  It  is  certainly  a dangerous 
to  it  occurs  in  the  Spectator^  No,  73.  thing  to  assert  a negative  ; but  I 
Mr.  Matthgw  Arnold,  indeed,  says  venture  to  affirm  that  Addison  no- 
in his  Introduction  to  Ward’s  Eng-  where  makes  any  comparison  of  the 
lish  Poets  (p.  xxxvi.)  that  “ Addison,  sort. 

III.— 7 


98 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


II. 


HE  lines  quoted,  a few  pages  previous,  from  Sir 


John  Denham  may  be  taken  as  representing  the 
most  favorable  opinion  that  was  usually  held  of  Chaucer 
in  the  latter  half  of  the  seventeenth  century.  He  is  in 
them  designated  simply  as  the  morning  star  of  our  liter- 
ature. This  is  his  distinction,  and  this  alone.  His  work 
is  a promise  of  the  coming  day  rather  than  a realization 
of  it.  It  is  the  unhappy  fate,  however,  of  morning  stars, 
whether  of  the  literary  or  of  the  natural  heavens,  to  fall 
under  the  observation  of  very  few  eyes.  The  weight  of 
evidence  that  at  that  time  Chaucer  was  to  most  men  of 
letters  little  more  than  a name  is  not  impaired  by  the 
fact  that  in  the  midst  of  general  ignorance  or  indiffer- 
ence individuals  were  still  to  be  found  who  continued  to 
look  upon  him  as  retaining  the  supremacy  which  for  two 
centuries  after  his  death  had  been  unhesitatingly  accord- 
ed him  by  the  consent  of  all.  Anthony  Wood,  for  in- 
stance, in  his  great  work,  published  1691-2,  still  continues 
to  call  him  the  prince  of  English  poets.^  But  Wood  was 
an  antiquary.  It  was  doubtless  felt  by  his  contempora- 
ries that  it  was  his  business  as  an  antiquary  to  recollect 
and  praise  what  the  rest  of  the  world  was  doing  all  in 
its  power  to  forget.  Still,  the  class  to  which  this  scholar 


Athencs  Oxonienses,  under  ‘ Thynne.  ’ 


REVIVING  INTEREST  IN  CHAUCER 


99 


belonged  is  not  a class  to  be  despised  in  the  matter  of 
influence ; and  it  was  far  from  being  an  inconspicuous 
part  that  it  played  in  the  revival  that  was  now  about  to 
begin  taking  place  in  the  poet's  fame* 

For  the  reputation  of  Chaucer  was  speedily  to  enter 
upon  a new  phase.  A great  renovation  was  to  be  ac- 
complished for  it ; and  the  chief  impulse  towards  this 
result  came  from  the  hands  of  a poet  who  stood  in  about 
the  same  relation  to  the  literature  of  the  latter  half  of 
the  seventeenth  century  that  the  elder  poet  did  to  the 
latter  half  of  the  fourteenth.  This  man  was  Dryden. 
At  the,  time  he  took  up  the  task  of  reviving  Chaucer  he 
was,  apparently,  not  in  a position  to  exert  much  influ- 
ence in  the  rehabilitation  of  any  one’s  reputation.  He 
had  been  deposed  from  the  laureateship.  The  offlce  he 
had  held  had,  for  the  first  time,  been  made  contemptible 
by  being  conferred  upon  a writer  distinguished  by  the 
soundness  of  his  politics  rather  than  by  the  excellence  of 
his  verse,  and  whose  memory  now  survives  almost  en- 
tirely in  the  satire  of  the  man  he  succeeded.  But  this 
was  the  least  of  Dryden’s  troubles.  He  was  struggling 
with  want,  or  what  seemed  to  him  want.  He  was  op- 
pressed with  the  double  burden  of  illness  and  old  age. 
A storm  of  calumny  and  invective  was  raging  around 
him,  partly  on  account  of  the  immorality  of  his  writ- 
ings, but  largely  because  of  the  change  in  his  religion. 
The  insults  he  had  heaped  upon  his  opponents  when 
they  were  out  of  power  were  now  returned  in  kind  ; and 
if  their  attacks  did  not  equal  his  in  vigor,  they  did  in 
bitterness.  An  adherent  of  a beaten  party,  a communi- 
cant of  a hated  faith,  himself  deprived  of  place  and  pen- 


100 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


sion,  and  no  longer  in  favor  with  the  dispensers  of  favor, 
he  seemed  little  likely  to  do  for  others  what  he  was  un- 
able to  do  for  himself.  In  spite  of  this  state  of  things, 
his  literary  dictatorship  not  only  remained  unshaken  ;,iit 
rwas  even  more  firmly  established  than  ever.  Enemies 
and  friends  alike  recognized  his  supremacy.  Pope,  not 
yet  twelve  years  of  age,  contrived  to  see  him,  and  to  cel- 
ebrate his  greatness  early  came  Addison,  the  rising  liter- 

fxy  hope  of  the  Whigs.  There  was  a solid  justi^fication 
or  this  continued  influence  of  the  veteran  rulerA  Dry- 
tien’s  mental  powers  never  showed  the  slightest Isign  of 
decay.  On  the  contrary,  his  taste  and  judgment  kept 
steadily  improving  with  the  advance  of  years.  him- 
self, indeed,  speaks  of  one  of  his  later  productions  as  the 
vretched  remainder  of  a sickly  age,  worn  out  with  study 
ind  oppressed  by  fortune.  Never  was  self-depreciation 
Tiore  unjustifiable.  The  work  of  his  last  twenty  years 
^own  to  the  very  close  stands  on  a scale  far  higherV  than 
:hat  accomplished  at  any  time  in  the  flush  of  youtH\or 
die  vigor  of  early  middle  life. 

There  was  likeness  enough  in  the  fortunes  and  opin- 
ons  of  the  two  writers  to  have  of  itself  attracted  the 
attention  of  the  later  poet  to  the  earlier.  These  similari- 
ties are  naturally  far  more  striking  to  the  observer  of  our 
lay.  Their  lives  covered  the  corresponding  periods  of 
dieir  respective  centuries.  They  certainly  died,  and  pos- 
sibly may  have  been  born,  in  its  corresponding  years. 
They  were  both  recognized  by  the  common  voice  of  con- 
temporaries as  having  attained  to  the  literary  supremacy 
af  their  times.  They  were  both  connected  with  the  court 
in  various  relations.  They  were  both  the  favorites  of 


DRYDEN  ON  CHAUCER 


lOI 


men  who  occupied  high  positions  in  the  state,  up  to  the 
very  highest.  They  both  held  places  in  the  customs’ 
service.  They  both  may  have  led  free  lives ; they  both 
certainly  wrote  free  verses.  They  both  seem  in  their 
later  years  to  have  experienced  privation  and  sorrow, 
and  both  surely  felt  the  pressure  of  poverty.  Yet  in 
neither  did  length  of  days  or  increase  of  infirmity  bring 
any  diminution  of  intellectual  vigor ; and  the  best  work 
of  both  belongs  to  the  latter  portion  of  their  lives.  We 
know  too  little  of  the  ancient  poet  to  speak  with  confi- 
dence of  closer  analogies  that  may  exist.  This  is  especially 
true  in  the  matter  of  their  opinions.  Yet  even  here  there 
is  a marked  similarity  between  them  in  one  respect.  The 
writings  of  both  are  full  of  attacks  upon  the  clergy;  and 
if  we  could  fully  believe  Chaucer’s  recantation  to  be  gen- 
uine, we  might  be  justified  in  saying  that  both  sought 
relief  from  perplexities  that  wearied  and  doubts  that 
disturbed  without  satisfying  the  heart  in  an  unquestion- 
ing faith  to  the  luxurious  repose  of  which  the  minds  of 
many  are  often  tempted  to  fly. 

Dryden,  upon  taking  up  the  study  of  the  earlier  Eng- 
lish authors,  came  to  have  a great  admiration  for  Chau- 
cer. At  what  period  he  first  made  acquaintance  with 
his  writings,  we  do  not  know  positively.  Still,  in  spite 
of  Malone’s  doubt, ^ there  is  every  reason  to  suppose 
that  it  was  not  a long  while  after  his  own  accession  to 
the  laureateship  in  1670.  It  is  not  necessary,  indeed, 
to  assume  that  he  then  became  familiar  with  many,  or 
that  he  ever  became  familiar  with  all,  of  the  writings  of 
the  elder  poet.  Certain  it  is,  however,  that  before  the 


^ Malone’s  Dryden^  vol.  i.,  p,  318. 


102 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


death  of  Charles  he  took  occasion  to  pay  a tribute  of 
respect  to  Chaucer’s  power  as  a satirist.  About  1680, 
Sir  William  Soames,  of  Suffolk,  made  a translation 
of  Boileau’s  Art  Poetiqiie^  which  he  submitted  to  Dry- 
den  for  revision.  The  latter  made  many  alterations  in 
the  version.  In  particular,  he  substituted  in  it  English 
authors  for  the  French  ones  of  the  original.  In  the 
course  of  the  poem,  Lucilius,  Horace,  Persius,  and  Juve- 
nal were  specified  as  the  representatives  of  the  best  man- 
ner shown  in  ancient  satire ; and  the  one  writer  in  our 
tongue  who  exhibited  that  manner  best  was  thus  de- 
scribed : 

“ Chaucer  alone,  fixed  on  this  solid  base, 

In  his  old  style  conserves  a modern  grace : 

Too  happy  if  the  freedom  of  his  rhymes 
Offended  not  the  method  of  our  times.” 

This  translation  of  Soames  was  published  in  1683.  It 
makes  perfectly  clear  that  before  that  period  the  atten- 
tion of  Dryden  had  been  turned  to  the  man  whom,  fol- 
lowing a mistaken  tradition,  he  called  his  predecessor  in 
the  laurel.  About  this  time,  also,  it  must  have  been  that 
he  conceived  the  idea  of  making  the  poet  he  admired 
known  in  a modern  version  to  a generation  which  was 
ignorant  of  him,  and,  because  it  was  ignorant,  was  dis- 
posed to  deny  him  any  great  merit.  From  this  project, 
however,  he  was  dissuaded  by  one  of  his  patrons,  the 
Earl  of  Feicester,  the  elder  brother  of  Algernon  Sidney. 
That  nobleman  cherished  a strong  regard  for  Chaucer. 
He  naturally  believed  that  the  beauty  of  his  verse  would 
be  lost  in  any  modernization.  Out  of  deference  to  the 
opinion  of  one  to  whom  he  was  under  obligations.  Dry- 


DRYDEN  ON  CHAUCER 


103 


den  did  not  at  that  time  carry  out  his  plan.  Buhin  1698 
the  earl  died,  and  the  poet  thereafter  felt  himself  at  lib- 
erty to  turn  his  thoughts  to  a scheme  which  he  had  never 
willingly  abandoned.  In  the  very  last  years  of  his  life  he 
took  up  the  task  with  ardor.  The  result  appeared  in  his 
volume  of  ‘ Fables,  Ancient  and  Modern,’  which  was 
published  in  March,  1700,  a few  weeks  before  his  death. 
This  work  contained,  with  much  other  matter,  modern- 
ized versions  of  several  of  Chaucer’s  poems.  To  it  was 
added,  besides,  a dissertation  on  his  originals  in  the  shape 
of  a long  preface.  Dryden  has  been  charged  by  Dr.  John- 
son with  having  written  most  of  his  critical  essays  only  to 
recommend  the  work  upon  which  he  then  happened  to  be 
employed.^  There  is  every  evidence,  however,  for  believ- 
ing that  in  this  particular  one,  at  any  rate,  he  was  giving 
utterance  to  sentiments  not  only  really  felt,  but  long 
matured.  But  whether  the  motive  that  dictated  it  was 
questionable  or  not,  there  can  be  no  question  as  to  the 
influence  it  exerted.  Dryden’s  prose  was  always  enter- 
taining, and  his  criticism  always  commanded  respect, 
even  where  it  did  not  assent.  The  attractiveness  of  this 
essay,  both  in  matter  and  manner,  made  it  not  merely 
the  most  interesting  discussion  of  Chaucer’s  literary 
character  and  genius  which  up  to  the  time  had  ap- 
peared, but  has  kept  it  from  being  surpassed  in  some  re- 
spects by  anything  that  has  since  been  produced.  The 
dissertation  presents,  moreover,  something  besides  the 
critical  estimate  of  the  writer ; it  indirectly  exhibits  the 
critical  estimate  of  the  age.  It  furnishes  direct  evidence 
of  the  highest  kind  as  to  the  opinions  then  generally 


* Rambler,  No.  93. 


104  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

held  in  regard  to  the  first  great  author  of  our  literature. 
It  will  be  found  that  it  bears  out  entirely  the  inferences 
that  have  already  been  drawn  from  the  words  of  the 
men  who  contributed  their  welcome  to  Kinaston’s  ver- 
sion of  ‘Troilus  and  Cressida.’ 

This  it  is  now  time  to  state  fully.  According  to  the 
testimony  of  this  preface,  there  were  then  existing  two 
classes  entertaining  views  on  the  subject  widely  apart. 
By  one  of  these  the  early  poet  was  looked  upon  as  a dry, 
old-fashioned  wit  not  worth  reviving.  The  reputation 
of  Chaucer  was  a long  way  from  having  reached  the  stage 
where  men  who  knew  nothing  about  him  felt  obliged  to 
pay  respect  to  the  opinions  of  those  who  knew.  Dry- 
den,  indeed,  tells  us  that  he  found  some  people  offended 
because  he  had  turned  the  tales  he  did  into  modern  Eng- 
lish. He  mentioned  no  living  persons  as  representatives 
of  the  feelings  of  this  class,  though  to  us  Addison  would 
be  a particularly  conspicuous  one.  From  among  the 
dead,  however,  he  specified  Cawley.  This  he  did  upon 
information  given  him  by  the  Earl  of  Leicester.  That 
poet  had  been  induced  by  this  nobleman  to  read  Chau- 
cer, but  did  not  relish  him,  or,  as  Dryden  puts  it,  had 
“ no  taste  of  him.”  Cowley  is  an  author  too  little  ap- 
preciated in  the  present  age.  Even  at  the  very  time  of 
which  we  are  speaking  he  had  already  begun  to  sink 
largely  in  reputation,  though  hardly  more  than  thirty 
years  had  passed  since  his  death.  The  process  con- 
tinued to  go  on  rapidly  in  the  century  that  followed,  and 
has  never  been  really  arrested.  The  failure  of  the  later 
author  to  appreciate  the  earlier  was  almost  inevitable. 
He  was  of  a school  exactly  opposite  to  that  of  which 


DRYDEN  ON  CHAUCER 


105 


Chaucer  is  a most  distinguished  representative.  It  was 
hardly  to  be  expected  that  one  of  the  most  artificial 
writers  of  our  tongue  should  enjoy  one  of  the  most  nat- 
ural. For  Cowley,  though  possessing  a genuine  vein  of 
poetry,  was  a man  of  conceits.  He  was  addicted  es- 
pecially to  grotesque  comparisons  and  far-fetched  allu- 
sions, dragged  in  not  to  illustrate  his  subject,  but  to  ex- 
hibit his  knowledge  and  wit.  When  to  the  difference 
of  character  was  added  the  difficulty  of  language,  far 
greater  then  than  now,  it  is  not  surprising  that  Cowley 
should  have  felt  for  Chaucer  a distaste  which,  with  a cer- 
tain degree  of  injustice,  most  men  at  the  present  time 
feel  for  Cowley  himself. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Earl  of  Leicester  represented, 
as  has  been  said  before,  a class  so  ardently  attached  to  the 
early  poet  that  the  men  who  belonged  to  it  viewed  with 
repugnance  any  attempt  to  put  his  writings  in  a modern 
dress.  They  thought  a certain  veneration  was  due  to  his 
language,  and  that  it  was  little  less  than  profanation  to 
alter  it  in  the  slightest  degree.  Moreover,  they  believed 
that  something  of  his  good  sense  would  necessarily  disap- 
pear in  the  transfusion  to  a later  form,  and  that  much  of 
the  beauty  of  his  thoughts  would  be  lost  in  the  new  hab- 
its in  which  they  were  clothed.  This  was,  in  truth,  a feel- 
ing that  had  previously  influenced  Kinaston.  He  could, 
he  tells  us,  have  changed  the  obsolete  phrases  and  ex- 
pressions of  his  original  into  the  English  of  his  own  age, 
and  fitted  it  for  the  comprehension  of  readers,  at  far  less 
expense  of  time  and  trouble  than  was  required  to  turn 
it  into  Latin  ryme.  But  in  his  eyes  it  would  have  been, 
as  he  expressed  it,  an  inexpiable  sin  against  the  manes 


I06  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

of  Chaucer  to  have  altered  the  least  word  in  writings 
which  were  worthy  to  remain  sacred  and  untouched 
forever.  By  men  of  this  class  there  is  no  doubt  that 
Dryden’s  proceedings  were  regarded  with  undisguised 
dislike.  It  was  in  1706,  only  a few  years  after  his  mod- 
ernizations had  come  out,  that  a poem  was  published 
entitled  ‘Woodstock  Park.’  It  has  a special  interest  on 
account  of  the  vigor  with  which  it  gives  expression  to 
this  feeling  of  displeasure.  Its  author  was  William  Har- 
rison, a fellow  of  New  College,  Oxford,  and  an  intimate 
friend  of  Swift.  In  this  production  he  bestowed  the 
highest  praise  upon  Chaucer’s  genius.  He  spoke  in  par- 
ticular of  his  excellence  in  description,  where  poetry  had 
invaded  the  art  of  the  painter.  Then  he  proceeded  to 
set  forth  his  opinion  of  the  modern  versions  in  these 
words : 

“ This  Dryden  saw,  and  with  his  wonted  fate 
(Rich  in  himself)  endeavored  to  translate: 

Took  wondrous  pains  to  do  the  author  wrong, 

And  set  to  modern  tune  his  ancient  song. 

Cadence  and  sound  which  we  so  prize  and  use 
111  suit  the  majesty  of  Chaucer’s  muse : 

His  language  only  can  his  thoughts  express; 

Old  honest  Clytus  scorns  a Persian  dress.” 

From  the  point  of  view  of  our  own  time,  especially 
from  that  of  the  last  twenty-five  years,  the  class  repre- 
sented by  Kinaston,  Leicester,  and  Harrison  would  be 
regarded  as  entirely  in  the  right.  Yet  as  respects  the 
age  in  which  he  himself  flourished,  it  is  a question  if 
Dryden’s  conclusion  as  to  the  desirability  of  a para- 
phrase was  not  the  correct  one.  He  was  addressing  the 


DRYDEN  ON  CHAUCER 


107 

men  of  a generation  to  the  vast  majority  of  whom  Chau- 
cer was  unknown.  Even  those  who  had  any  acquaint- 
ance with  him  at  all  knew  him  only  in  editions  in  which 
the  carelessness  of  copyists,  the  blunders  of  printers,  and 
the  ignorance  of  editors  had  combined  sometimes  to  ob- 
scure his  sense,  but  more  often  to  impair  and  occasionally 
to  destroy  the  beauty  of  his  versification.  Those  who 
had  the  desire  did  not  then  have  the  means  of  pursuing 
the  study  of  his  language.  The  natural  obscurity  which, 
in  that  respect,  time  had  brought  about  was  to  most 
readers  rendered  apparently  several  shades  deeper  by 
printing  his  writings  in  the  black-letter  type  which  had 
long  been  abandoned  in  the  case  of  every  other  author, 
and,  in  consequence,  came  at  last  to  be  considered  by 
many  as  essential  to  the  adequate  and  accurate  repre- 
sentation of  the  early  poet’s  ideas. 

As  a matter  of  fact,  indeed,  the  two  classes  mentioned 
by  Dryden  have  lasted  down  to  our  own  time.  It  is 
only  the  numbers  and  influence  of  the  two  that  have 
been  reversed.  There  are  those  of  the  present  day  who 
know  as  little  of  Chaucer  and  condemn  him  as  glibly, 
though  not  so  loudly,  as  the  most  ignorant  pretenders  to 
taste  of  the  latter  half  of  the  seventeenth  century.  But 
this  critical  estimate  now  is  dimly  conscious  that  it  is 
based  wholly  upon  ignorance.  It  is  clearly  suspicious 
that  the  expression  of  it  will  be  looked  upon  as  indica- 
tive of  obtuseness  rather  than  of  superior  insight.  It  is 
therefore  ordinarily  not  disposed  to  avow  its  lack  of  ap- 
preciation, and  very  rarely  to  plume  itself  upon  it.  For 
there  is  at  present,  what  there  was  not  even  a hundred 
years  ago,  a large  and  steadily  increasing  body  of  culti- 


o8 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


vated  readers  to  whom  Chaucer’s  language  presents  no 
difficulties,  to  whom  the  melody  of  his  verse  is  manifest, 
and  by  whom  the  greatness  of  his  genius  is  both  recog- 
nized and  understood.  If  no  such  influential  body  ex- 
isted a century  ago,  still  less  did  it  exist  in  the  genera- 
tion that  Dryden  addressed.  He  himself  felt  that  in 
much  which  he  said  he  was  taking  extreme  ground.  He 
assures  us  that  for  preferring  Chaucer  to  Ovid  he  ex- 
pected to  be  thought  little  less  than  mad  by  the  vulgar 
judges  who,  in  his  estimate,  constitute  nine  parts  in  ten 
of  all  nations.  As  by  his  very  comparison  the  vulgar 

(judges  of  whom  he  spake  must  have  been  largely  made 
up  of  the  graduates  of  the  universities,  it  can  be  seen 
that  he  did  not  reckon  upon  much  support  for  his  opin- 
ions from  the  educated  class.  It  is  a striking  illustra- 
tion of  Dryden’s  genuine  critical  judgment  that  he  could 
recognize  so  plainly  Chaucer’s  power,  and  find  so  many 
things  to  admire,  in  spite  not  merely  of  the  general  senti- 
ment of  his  time,  but  also  of  the  wretched  form  in  which 
the  poet’s  works  appeared,  and  of  his  own  ignorance  of 
a great  deal  that  is  now  well  known  to  the  least  keen- 
sighted  of  us  all. 

For  no  man,  however  great,  can  be  wholly  superior  to 
his  age,  and  in  matters  of  knowledge  is  little  likely  to  be 
; much  above  it.  Dryden’s  remarks  upon  Chaucer  are 
\ very  convincing  evidence  both  of  his  ignorance  and  of 
his  insight.  They  are  singularly  distinguished  by  their 
want  of  knowledge  of  the  poet  and  by  their  apprecia- 
tion of  his  poetry.  He  is  full  of  misstatements  of  fact. 
He  not  merely  attributes  to  Chaucer  the  spurious  ‘ Plow- 
man’s Tale’ — which  is  an  error  of  his  tim_e,  and  not  spe- 


DRYDEN  ON  CHAUCER 


109 


cifically  of  himself — but  he  seems  to  confuse  it  with 
Langland’s  ‘ Vision  of  Piers  Plowman,’  which  is  purely 
a blunder  of  his  own.  In  the  passage  quoted  from  the 
version  of  Boileau’s  ‘Art  of  Poetry’  we  have  seen  that 
twenty  years  before  he  had  referred  to  the  freedom  of 
Chaucer’s  rymes  — by  which  he  meant  the  license  of 
his  versification — as  something  offensive  to  the  modern 
method.  This  view  he  now  reinforced  more  fully.  His 
remarks  upon  his  metre  gave  the  weight  of  his  authority 
to  the  opinion  then  generally  accepted  that  the  early 
poet  was  in  matter  of  form  a rude,  unpolished  writer. 

He  was  characterized  by  Dryden  as  a rough  diamond. 

H is  words,  his  admirer  declared,  must  be  given  up  as  a 
post  not  to  be  defended,  because  he  understood  not  the  — 
modern  science  of  fortification.  His  lines  often  lacked 
the  proper  number  of  syllables.  His  verse,  as  a neces- 
sary consequence,  was  frequently  deficient  in  harmony. 

It  is  almost  needless  to  add  that  these  assertions  were 
accompanied  with  the  usual  declaration  made  during  the 
hundred  years  following  the  Restoration,  that  it  was  to 
Waller  and  Denham  that  English  verse  owed  its  perfec- 
tion and  final  polish  ; that  these  two  men,  who  rose  no 
exalted  height  above  the  grade  of  poetasters,  had  a skill 
In  versification  far  greater  than  all  the  mighty  masters 
who  had  gone  before ; and  that,  indeed,  our  numbers 
were  in  their  nonage  till  these  pygmies  came.  These 
were  the  crudities  and  absurdities  of  the  criticism  of  the 
age ; and  though  we  may  regret  that  Dryden  was  not 
superior  to  them,  we  can  hardly  be  surprised  at  it. 

In  truth,  it  would  have  been  more  than  strange  had 
Dryden  taken  any  other  ground  than  he  did.  Harri- 


I lO 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


son’s  censure  of  his  modernizations  shows  that  the  most 
thorough-going  of  the  admirers  of  Chaucer  did  not  deny 
the  rudeness  of  that  poet’s  versification.  They  simply 
contended  that  this  rudeness  was  preferable  to  the  polish 
which  another  age  might  seek  to  bestow;  though  in  the 
concession  the  feeling  can  be  detected  that  in  the  defer- 
ence then  paid  to  cadence  and  sound  there  was  a sort  of 
literary  effeminacy  which  did  not  contrast  favorably  with 
the  manliness  and  vigor  of  the  earlier  time.  By  all  these 
advocates  of  the  poet  the  words  were  practically  given 
up,  to  use  Dryden’s  phrase,  as  a post  not  to  be  defended. 
In  place  of  the  praise  usually  bestowed  upon  diction  in 
the  case  of  other  writers,  stress  was  laid  upon  the  assumed 
higher  qualities  of  matter  and  invention.  Peacham,  who, 
in  the  earlier  part  of  the  seventeenth  century,  furnished 
for  his  contemporaries  that  frequently  printed  code  of 
manners  entitled  ‘ The  Complete  Gentleman,’  authorita- 
tively announced  to  that  ideal  personage  that  Chaucer 
must  be  accounted  among  the  best  of  the  English  books 
in  his  library.  Yet  even  at  that  time  he  recognized  the 
obsolescence  of  his  language,  if  not  its  obsoleteness.  For 
it  he  presented  the  usual  substitutes.  ‘‘Although,”  he 
wrote,  “ the  style  for  the  antiquity  may  distaste  you, 
yet  as  under  a bitter  and  rough  rind  there  lieth  a deli- 
cate kernel  of  conceit  and  sweet  invention.”  Braith- 
waite  also,  at  the  end  of  his  Comment,  represents  himself 
as  in  this  way  crushing  a pestilent  critic  who  had  inter- 
posed a remark  to  the  effect  that  he  could  allow  well  of 
Chaucer  if  his  language  were  better.  “ Whereto,”  he 
said,  “ the  author  of  these  Commentaries  returned  him 
this  answer:  ‘Sir,  it  appears  you  prefer  speech  before 


SUPPOSED  RUDENESS  OF  VERSIFICATION  in 

the  head -piece;  language  before  invention;  whereas 
weight  of  judgment  has  ever  given  invention  priority 
before  language.  And  not  to  leave  you  dissatisfied,  as 
the  time  wherein  these  tales  were  writ  rendered  him  in- 
capable of  the  one,  so  his  pregnancy  of  fancy  approved 
him  incomparable  for  the  other.’  Which  answer  stilled 
this  censor,  and  justified  the  author;  leaving  New-holme 
to  attest  his  deserts ; his  works  to  perpetuate  his  honor.” 

This  particular  censor  may  have  been  stilled  by  this 
argument;  but  it  was  not  of  a kind  to  make  the  major- 
ity of  men  dumb.  Naturally  the  view  expressed  was 
not  the  one  ordinarily  taken.  It  was  assuredly  one  that 
could  not  be  successfully  defended.  The  alliance  be- 
tween matter  and  expression  in  poetry  is  too  close  for 
either  to  be  considered  independently  of  the  other.  If 
Chaucer’s  diction  cannot  stand  on  its  own  merits,  it  will 
never  be  propped  up  permanently  by  the  eulogiums 
paid  to  his  ideas  and  invention.  As  his  admirers  were 
apparently  compelled  to  admit  that  his  language  was 
lacking  in  beauty  and  melody,  the  uncouthness  of  his 
verse  came  more  and  more  to  be  assumed  as  something 
about  which  there  was  not  the  slightest  question.  The 
charge  of  crudeness  and  inelegance  was  the  one  regu- 
larly made.  It  was  increasingly  echoed  and  re-echoed 
through  the  century  that  followed.  There  is  scarcely 
an  extended  reference  to  Chaucer  which  does  not  either 
assert  it  or  imply  it.  The  glory  of  his  numbers  had  been 
lost,  according  to  Waller,  through  the  changes  constant- 
ly going  on  in  the  language.  But  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury was  not  disposed  to  concede  that  any  glory  had  be- 
longed to  his  numbers  in  the  first  place.  The  best  that 


1 12  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

could  be  said  of  him  was  that  he,  a rude  man  living  in  a 
rude  age,  had  possessed  a native  strength  which  justified 
later  times  in  bestowing  upon  him  the  patronage  of  a 
guarded  approval.  We  who  have  learned  to  recognize 
in  him  one  of  the  greatest,  if  not  the  greatest  master  in 
our  tongue  of  melodious  versification,  can  hardly  afford 
to  sneer  at  the  misconceptions  of  the  preceding  century, 
when  our  own,  with  ample  facilities  for  arriving  at  the 
truth,  has  largely  contented  itself  with  repeating,  and 
often  in  exaggerated  phrase,  the  blunders  of  the  past. 

Still,  though  Dryden’s  authority  gave  vitality  to  a 
prevalent  error  on  this  point,  his  criticism  was  on  the 
whole  of  great  and  enduring  benefit  to  Chaucer’s  repu- 
tation. It  did  not,  to  be  sure,  bring  him  at  the  time 
into  vogue.  That  was  the  work  of  a later  generation. 
But  it  did  bring  him,  as  regards  the  general  public  of 
educated  men,  into  that  sort  of  estimation  in  which 
many  authors  exist  who  are  spoken  well  of  by  every- 
body, though  read  by  few  or  none.  From  this  period 
on,  moreover,  there  was  a slow  but  steadily  increasing 
revival  of  interest  in  the  early  poet.  It  did  not  at  first 
manifest  itself  to  any  great  degree  in  genuine  study. 
Yet  it  is  plain  that  his  writings  were  more  or  less  fa- 
miliar to  nearly  all  the  prominent  men  of  letters  of  the 
former  half  of  the  eighteenth  century.  This  acquaint- 
ance, however,  did  not  by  any  means  always  involve 
appreciation.  Respect  of  a peculiar  kind  was  paid  to 
his  memory.  For,  after  a fashion,  Chaucer  for  a while, 
curiously  enough,  became  a fashion.  Two  methods  of 
showing  him  honor  sprang  into  existence.  One  was 
the  composition  of  works  written  in  his  manner,  or  in 


IMITATIONS  OF  CHAUCER 


II3 

his  supposed  manner.  The  other  was  the  carrying  out 
and  extending  to  his  remaining  works  the  process  of 
modernization  which  had  been  begun  by  Dryden.  These 
were  both  illegitimate  methods  of  spreading  his  repu- 
tation. The  result,  so  far  as  there  was  any  result,  was 
to  make  him  notorious  rather  than  known.  They, 
doubtless,  carried  his  name  where  otherwise  it  would 
not  have  been  heard  of  ; but  they  gave  an  entirely  false 
conception  of  his  genius.  The  history  of  the  former  of 
these  methods,  as  on  the  whole  less  influential,  will  first 
be  related. 

It  would  be  untrue  to  speak  of  the  practice  of  imita- 
tion as  due  to  Dryden’s  influence,  so  far  as  its  origin 
was  concerned.  The  revival  of  interest  in  our  earlier 
writers  began  to  show  itself  in  the  closing  years  of  the 
century  in  which  he  flourished.  But  the  movement  in 
this  direction  did  not  owe  its  first  impulse  to  him  or  to 
any  one  man.  Sufficient  notice  has  never  been  taken 
of  it  in  the  history  of  literature.  There  is,  indeed,  an 
ignorance  at  the  present  time  of  the  attitude  of  the 
mind  of  the  eighteenth  century  towards  the  past,  which 
perpetually  betrays  us  into  the  grossest  errors.  Much 
stress,  for  illustration,  is  constantly  laid  upon  Gold- 
smith’s remark  that  he  had  never  heard  of  Drayton. 
It  is  often  quoted  as  if  his  ignorance  were  proof  of  gen- 
eral ignorance.  Nothing  could  well  be  farther  from  the 
truth.  It  is  specially  unfair  to  any  period  to  test  its 
knowledge  or  appreciation  of  any  subject  or  person  from 
the  chance  sayings  of  a man  of  genius,  whose  present 
popularity  gives  his  assertions  a weight  which  they  were 
far  from  possessing  in  his  own  day.  Goldsmith  had  as 
III.— 8 


1 14  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

little  acquaintance  as  the  men  who  quote  him  with  the 
fact  that  what  can  be  called  the  first  collected  edition  of 
Drayton’s  works  was  published  only  a few  years  before 
he  expressed  himself  as  he  did.  His  ignorance,  indeed, 
was  distributed  over  a wide  variety  of  subjects,  and  he 
is  no  more  a competent  witness  to  the  knowledge  of 
our  past  literature  possessed  by  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury than  he  is  to  its  knowledge  of  natural  history.  No 
one,  to  be  sure,  will  pretend  that  there  existed  then 
much  familiarity  with  any  of  our  early  writers.  But 
the  ignorance  was  a relative,  and  not  an  absolute,  one. 
The  study  of  them  was  moving  back  slowly,  but  it 
moved.  In  process  of  time  it  would  have  reached 
Chaucer  had  Dryden  never  written  a word.  All  that  in 
justice  can  be  ascribed  to  him  is  that  he  gave  a power- 
ful impulse  to  a revolution  that  was  destined  under  any 
circumstances  to  run  its  course.  Spenser,  as  nearer  in 
time  and  language,  was  the  first  to  be  struck  by  this 
wave ; and  there  are  probably  few  persons  outside  of 
professed  students  of  English  literature  who  have  any 
conception  of  the  number  of  productions  written  in 
avowed  imitation  of  that  poet’s  manner  during  the  whole 
of  the  eighteenth  century.  Moreover,  if  allusions  to 
the  ‘ Fairy  Queen,’  in  books  and  periodicals,  can  be 
taken  as  a test  of  acquaintance  with  the  work  itself, 
there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  it  was  read  far 
more  then  than  now. 

The  consideration  of  these  imitations  of  Spenser  is 
out  of  place  here.  They  were  far  greater  in  number 
than  those  of  Chaucer.  They  were  also  more  success- 
ful. The  worst  of  them  had  a certain  claim  to  likeness, 


SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY  IMITATIONS  II5 

which  is  something  that  can  rarely  be  said  of  the  best 
of  the  efforts  to  reproduce  the  style  and  language  of 
the  earlier  poet.  Still,  these  latter  were  the  first  to  be 
attempted.  They  had  their  origin  in  the  decay  of  knowl- 
edge. Men  began  to  adopt  and  parade  Chaucer’s  words 
as  soon  as  they  had  ceased  to  understand  them.  The 
result  was  that  a style  of  writing,  which  never  had  any 
existence  anywhere,  was  taken  as  the  model  to  which 
all  writers  archaically  inclined  were  expected  to  con- 
form. The  earliest  of  these  efforts  to  represent  the 
manner  of  the  poet  with  which  I am  acquainted  was 
the  production  of  one  of  the  scholars  with  whose  at- 
tendant encomiums  Kinaston’s  Latin  translation  of 
‘ Troilus  and  Cressida’  was  ushered  into  the  world. 
His  name  was  Francis  James,  and  he  signed  himself  as 
bachelor  of  arts  of  New  College,  Oxford.  His  piece 
was  a short  one  of  fourteen  lines.  Still,  he  contrived 
to  pack  into  this  brief  composition  a goodly  number  of 
the  less  known  and  less  easily  understood  of  the  words 
and  phrases  which  are  to  be  found  in  the  more  than 
thirty  thousand  lines  of  the  poet  he  imitated.  It  is 
not  the  solitary  instance  of  this  scholar’s  archaic  predi- 
lections of  which  Chaucer  was  the  victim.  To  a trans- 
lation of  the  ‘ Loves  of  Clitophon  and  Leucippus,’  from 
the  Greek  of  Achilles  Tatius,  which  was  published  in 
1638,  he  prefixed  a copy  of  commendatory  verses.  They 
consisted  of  double  the  number  of  lines  that  were  found 
in  the  piece  that  has  just  been  mentioned.  They  were 
built,  however,  upon  the  same  plan,  and  exhibited  the 
same  characteristics.  James  was  altogether  more  Chau- 
cerian than  Chaucer  himself.  As  large  a collection  as 


Il6  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

possible  of  peculiarities  of  expression,  most  remote  from 
modern  speech,  had  been  carefully  culled  out,  and 
brought  together  in  the  compass  of  these  few  lines. 
The  reader  who  got  his  conception  of  fourteenth-cen- 
tury English  from  these  imitations  would  find  it  a mat- 
ter of  some  little  difficulty  to  understand  how  nine- 
teenth-century English  could  ever  have  been  developed 
out  of  a language  of  this  sort. 

There  is,  indeed,  in  the  first  part  of  the  ‘ Return  from 
Parnassus,’ which,  though  not  published  until  1886,  was 
produced  at  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century,  a so-called 
imitation  of  Chaucer’s  style.^  It  is  almost  perfectly  cor- 
rect, there  being  but  one  error  of  inflection  in  it,  and 
this  consists  merely  in  incorrectly  attributing  to  the 
poet  a grammatical  form  he  would  not  ordinarily  have 
used,  though  in  itself  it  is  not  incorrect.^  But  this  ac- 
curacy was  easily  secured.  The  passage  was  brief,  con- 
sisting but  of  three  seven-line  stanzas.  Moreover,  nearly 
all  the  lines  of  it  are  taken  wholly,  or  in  part,  from  ‘ Troi- 
lus  and  Cressida.’  Its  existence,  therefore,  can  hardly  be 
held  to  conflict  with  the  previous  statement  that  it  was 
Francis  James  with  whom  this  series  of  imitations  be- 
gan. It  was,  perhaps,  his  example  that  inspired  another 
effort  of  a somewhat  similar  kind.  Cartwright  has  been 
already  mentioned  as  the  only  one  of  the  poetical  corn- 
menders  of  Kinaston’s  attempt  whose  name  can  be  said 
to  survive  in  literary  history.  Even  in  the  list  of  the 
illustrious  obscure  with  whom  he  must  be  classed  he 
does  not  hold  a prominent  place.  Still,  by  his  contem- 
poraries he  was  looked  upon  as  remarkable  both  for 


^ In  act  iv,,  scene  i. 


^ Ybears,  ryming  with  the  plural  tears. 


SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY  IMITATIONS  II7 

his  learning  and  his  parts,  and  his  early  death  was  deep- 
ly deplored.  His  imitation  of  Chaucer’s  language  is, 
therefore,  a suggestive  example  of  the  ignorance  that 
had  come  to  prevail  about  it  even  among  those  who 
were  theoretically  familiar  with  his  writings.  In  his 
commendatory  lines  Cartwright  had  intimated  that  the 
ancient  poet,  who  had  hitherto  been  dumb  to  strangers 
and  even  to  his  own  countrymen,  was  now,  through 
the  medium  of  Kinaston’s  translation,  to  speak  plain- 
ly to  all.  He  speedily  took  occasion  to  furnish  satis- 
factory evidence  that  there  was  one  person  certainly  to 
whom  he  had  not  spoken  with  much  distinctness.  Some 
time  before  his  death,  which  took  place  in  1643,  one 
of  his  plays,  entitled  ‘ The  Ordinary,’  was  brought  out. 
It  was  an  imitation  of  Ben  Jonson’s  ‘Alchemist.’  All 
the  characters  in  it  who  are  not  scoundrels  are  fools, 
and  many  of  them  are  both.  It  is  to  be  remarked,  also, 
that  the  worst  of  the  crew,  after  the  exposure  of  their 
villainies,  resolve  to  take  refuge  in  the  congenial  soil 
of  New  England,  where  no  good  works  are  allowed,  and 
faith  alone  is  demanded.  An  extremely  shallow-brained 
personage  in  the  play  is  an  antiquary  named  Moth. 
He  goes  about  uttering  speeches  made  up  almost  en- 
tirely by  joining  together  detached  phrases  and  lines 
from  Chaucer’s  writings.  It  is,  as  might  be  expected, 
a sort  of  jargon  that  never  came  actually  from  any 
mortal  lips.  But  the  most  surprising  thing  connected 
with  it  is  the  absolute  ignorance  exhibited  by  its  de- 
viser of  the  most  common  words  used  by  the  poet.  The 
impossible  grammar  could  be  forgiven  if  any  possible 
sense  could  be  attached  to  what  is  said.  Gross  as  are 


Il8  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

the  failures  of  some  of  the  eighteenth-century  imitators 
of  Chaucer’s  style,  it  must  be  conceded  that  Cartwright 
I surpassed  them  all  in  the  production  of  a phraseology 
j which  would  have  been  as  incomprehensible  to  a man  of 
the  fourteenth  century  as  it  is  to  one  of  the  nineteenth. 

The  ‘ Musarum  Deliciae,’  to  which  attention  has  pre- 
viously been  called,  contained  two  satiric  pieces  in  imi- 
tation of  Chaucer’s  style.  Though  no  name  is  attached 
to  them,  they  were  in  all  probability  the  composition  of 
Sir  John  Mennis.  Their  merit  is  of  a purely  negative 
character.  The  language,  though  not  absolutely,  was 
comparatively,  free  from  mistakes ; but  there  was  nothing 
in  what  was  said  to  arouse  the  slightest  interest.  The 
same  can  be  said  of  an  imitation  of  the  tale  of  Sir  Tho- 
pas  which  appeared  in  a collection  of  political  pieces 
entitled  ‘ Choice  Drollery.’  This,  like  the  preceding, 
came  out  in  1656.  Apparently  much  more  important 
than  either  of  these  was  a little  work  which  appeared  in 
1672,  entitled  ‘Chaucer’s  Ghost,  or  a Piece  of  Antiquity 
containing  twelve  Pleasant  Fables  of  Ovid  penned  after 
the  ancient  manner  of  writing  in  England.’  The  poems 
were  accompanied  with  a story  in  prose  called  the  ‘ Pleas- 
ant History  of  Prince  Corniger  and  his  Champion  SirCru- 
cifrag.’  The  work  was  a peculiar  one.  Its  title  gave  the 
impression  that  it  had  been  designedly  composed  in  imi- 
tation of  Chaucer’s  style.  But  it  takes  the  very  briefest 
of  readings  to  convince  even  a superficial  student  of  four- 
teenth-century literature  that  it  is  not  the  ghost  of  that 
poet  who  has  made  his  appearance,  but  the  ghost  of 
Gower.  His  mechanical  manner,  his  monotonous  move- 
ment, are  both  there.  An  examination  of  the  pieces  estab- 


EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  IMITATIONS  II9 

lishes  the  further  fact  that  it  is  not  the  ghost  of  Gower 
that  has  been  brought  upon  the  stage,  but  the  real 
Gower  himself.  The  twelve  poems  found  in  this  little 
volume  are  taken  bodily  from  the  ‘ Confessio  Amantis,’ 
with  few  and  slight  modernizations,  but  enough  to  ren- 
der them  easily  intelligible.  But  there  is  not  a hint  in 
the  preface,  or  anywhere  in  the  work  itself,  of  the  real 
source.  Chaucer  could  never  have  been  plagiarized  in 
this  way  without  detection.  Gower  in  that  age,  and,  for 
that  matter,  in  most  ages,  could  be  plundered  with  im- 
punity by  any  one  who  deemed  him  worth  plundering 
at  all. 

The  existence  of  the  pieces  that  have  been  mentioned 
is,  of  course,  proof  positive  that  it  was  not  to  anything 
said  by  Dryden  that  the  practice  of  composing  imita- 
tions of  Chaucer  owed  its  origin.  Still,  it  was  indirectly 
to  him  that  the  extension  of  the  practice  was  mainly  due. 
His  essay  in  praise  of  the  poet  was  speedily  followed  by 
an  outburst  of  productions  of  this  sort.  Nor  did  it  cease 
very  soon.  For  more  than  a half-century  after  Dryden’s 
death  it  became  the  fashion  to  offer  a tribute  of  respect 
to  Chaucer  in  the  questionable  shape  of  spurious  imita- 
tion. To  write  in  the  style  of  Spenser — which  in  the 
eighteenth  century  meant  to  adopt  the  Spenserian  stan- 
za, flavored  with  a little  bad  grammar  and  the  occasional 
insertion  of  an  obsolete  word — was  not  a task  of  ex- 
treme difficulty.  Its  practice  in  some  instances  was  even 
attended  with  a moderate  degree  of  success.  For  when 
Spenser  is  once  stripped  of  his  strange  spelling,  his  lan- 
guage is  hardly  more  difficult  to  us  in  any  respect  than 
it  was  to  the  men  of  his  own  time,  while  we  have  facili- 


120 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


ties  far  greater  than  they  possessed  for  gaining  complete 
comprehension  of  his  archaic  words  and  spurious  coin- 
ages. 

The  case  is  altogether  different  with  Chaucer.  His 
speech  is  the  speech  of  his  age.  It  is  therefore  to  be 
acquired  by  him  who  is  willing  to  put  forth  the  requisite 
amount  of  exertion.  But  his  manner  is  one  supremely 
difficult  to  catch,  on  account  of  its  combination  of  sim- 
plicity and  naturalness  with  never-failing  dignity.  The 
difficulty  is  still  further  increased  by  the  presence  in  his 
satire  of  a peculiar  archness  and  delicacy  that  almost 
eludes  analysis,  and  by  the  ease  and  spontaneity  of  his 
expression,  which  never,  under  any  stress,  degenerates 
into  slovenliness.  He  is,  in  consequence,  one  of  the 
hardest  of  poets  to  imitate  successfully.  In  this  re- 
spect he  stands  next  tq  Shakspeare,  who  cannot  be  suc- 
cessfully imitated  at  all.  Not  thus,  however,  thought 
the  men  of  the  early  part  of  the  eighteenth  century.  To 
produce  a poem  after  the  pleasant  manner,  as  the  phrase 
ran,  of  Geoffrey  Chaucer  became  the  correct  thing  for 
the  writers  of  that  age  to  attempt.  The  list  of  those 
who  concerned  themselves  in  these  efforts  includes  the 
names  of  some  eminent  poets,  besides  a host  of  repre- 
sentatives from  the  noble  army  of  poetasters.  Pope, 
Prior,  and  Gay  can  be  mentioned  among  those  who  tried 
their  fortune  in  this  literary  tournament.  But  besides 
the  essays  of  these,  and  of  men  like  these,  there  appear 
in  the  periodicals  and  poetical  collections  and  miscella- 
nies of  the  eighteenth  century  compositions  of  unknown 
authors,  or  of  authors  who  have  had  time  to  become 
now  unknown,  which  purport  to  be  written  in  Chaucer’s 


EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  IMITATIONS 


I2I 


manner.  They  are  nearly  all  of  them  in  a so-called  fa- 
cetious strain,  of  which  it  is  extremely  difficult  at  present 
to  detect  the  facetiousness.  They  were  sometimes,  and 
perhaps  always,  printed  in  black-letter,  in  accordance 
with  that  curious  superstition  of  which  we  have  already 
had  occasion  to  take  notice  several  times,  and  which  we 
shall  meet  more  than  once  again.  For  instance.  Prior’s 
imitative  poems  called  ‘Susanna  and  the  Two  Elders’ 
and  ‘ Erie  Robert’s  Mice  ’ were  brought  out  in  this  type 
on  their  original  publication  in  1712. 

These  imitations  are  clearly  evidence  that  in  a certain 
way  a good  deal  of  attention  was  paid  to  the  original. 
But  they  do  not  show  that  it  was  understood  or  appre- 
ciated. If  anything,  they  show  the  reverse.  For  the 
attempt  to  reproduce  the  style  and  diction  of  Chaucer 
was  remarkable  for  nothing  so  much  as  for  the  com- 
pleteness of  its  failure.  It  is  plain  from  these  eigh- 
teenth-century imitations  that  three  things  were  held  to 
be  desirable  in  any  production  which  set  out  to  repre- 
sent adequately  the  early  poet’s  manner.  The  receipt 
for  its  composition  was,  in  truth,  a very  simple  one.  The 
story  must  be  obscene,  the  language  must  be  ungram- 
matical, and  the  verse  must  be  rugged.  The  three  char- 
acteristics were  successfully  blended,  though  it  would  be 
unjust  to  say  that  the  first  was  insisted  upon  unquali- 
fiedly. There  are  a number  of  these  pieces,  though 
usually  very  short  ones,  which  are  remarkable  for  the 
absence  of  impurity.  Still,  the  lack  of  it  was  generally 
felt  to  be  showing  a certain  want  of  faithfulness  to  the 
so-called  merry  spirit  of  the  original.  Moreover,  the 
nastiness  which  characterizes  these  productions  is  genu- 


122 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


ine  eighteenth-century  nastiness — a dragging-in  of  coarse 
images  and  ideas  for  their  own  sake,  a fondness  for  filth 
as  filth.  Chaucer,  in  the  tales  with  which  most  fault  has 
been  found  by  moralists,  certainly  does  not  go  out  of  his 
way  to  avoid  obscenity.  Still,  he  does  not  tell  his  story 
for  the  sake  of  the  sin.  The  sin  is  recounted  because  it 
happens  to  be  a necessary  ingredient  in  what  is  a good 
story.  In  the  eighteenth-century  imitations,  however, 
the  sin  was  not  an  accident  of  the  tale,  or  an  incident  in 
it  ; it  was  the  thing  alone  for  which  the  tale  was  told. 
Fortunately,  the  depravity  of  these  pieces  was,  in  nearly 
all  cases,  effectually  counteracted  by  their  dulness. 

In  the  matter  of  metre  and  language,  the  deviations 
from  the  original  were  even  more  marked.  Chaucer’s 
lines  were  understood  to  lack  the  proper  number  of 
words  or  syllables,  to  have  the  words  they  possessed 
accented  in  the  most  outlandish  ways,  and,  in  short,  to 
combine  all  the  qualities  that  suffice  to  render  verse 
rough  and  unharmonious.  These  peculiarities  it  was 
necessary  to  reproduce.  In  this  respect  the  work  was 
done  faithfully.  But  the  greatest  failure  of  all  was  in  the 
language.  The  producers  of  these  imitations  seemed  to 
be  largely  under  the  belief  that  the  farther  they  could 
get  from  the  correct  usage  of  their  own  age,  the  nearer 
they  were  to  the  usage  of  the  poet’s  age.  Their  knowl- 
edge was  very  much  upon  the  level  of  that  occupied 
now  by  the  dabblers  in  the  spelling  of  ‘ ye  olden  time,’ 
as  they  term  it,  who  fancy  that  they  reproduce  the  or- 
thography of  the  past  by  doubling  consonants  at  random 
and  adding  a final  e to  every  word  which  has  not  one  al- 
ready. In  this  respect  the  eighteenth-century  imitations 


EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  IMITATIONS  1 23 

show  generally  a decided  falling- off  of  knowledge  as 
compared  with  those  of  the  seventeenth,  with  the  one 
exception  of  Cartwright’s.  Those  of  the  latter  which 
have  fallen  under  my  own  observation  exhibit,  it  is  true, 
certain  mistakes  in  the  matter  of  language  arising  from 
a failure  to  comprehend  what  was  peculiar  to  the  gram- 
mar of  the  fourteenth  century.  They  sin,  too,  by  their 
excess  in  the  employment  of  forms  comparatively  unu- 
sual. Their  work  was,  in  fine,  the  work  of  men  who 
wholly  admired,  but  understood  only  imperfectly.  So 
much  as  this  can  scarcely  be  said  of  their  successors  in 
the  century  that  followed.  Theirs  was  the  work  of  men 
who  admired  conventionally,  and  did  not  understand  at 
all.  Common  English  written  in  an  uncommon  way, 
filled  with  strange  words,  and  words  in  strange  senses, 
and  disfigured  by  grammar  which  would  have  puzzled 
the  grammarians  of  any  epoch,  was  their  conception  of 
what  constituted  Old  English. 

The  result,  from  a linguistic  point  of  view,  was  more 
striking  than  satisfactory.  A failure  to  catch  the  spirit 
of  Chaucer’s  writing,  and  also  the  melody  of  his  versifi- 
cation, could  be  assumed  in  advance.  Yet  it  did  not 
seem  unreasonable  to  expect  that  a distant  approach  to 
the  words  and  grammar  of  his  period  might  be  made 
by  some  few  of  those  who  set  out  to  reproduce  what 
was  termed  the  antique  phrase  of  the  original.  Results 
of  this  kind  were  rarely  obtained,  even  remotely.  The 
language  in  which  most  of  these  imitations  were  couched 
is  a language  that  has  never  been  spoken  by  anybody 
since  the  English  tongue  began  to  have  an  existence 
of  its  own.  It  is  easy  to  detect  the  blunders  that  were 


124  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

made,  and  usually  to  see  how  they  happened  to  be 
made.  Yet  peculiar  words  are  occasionally  found  to 
which  the  reader  can  attach  no  definite  meaning,  for 
there  is  nothing  in  the  words  themselves,  or  in  the  con- 
text, to  suggest  what  they  could  have  been  intended  to 
mean.  Two  genuine  Chaucerian  terms  there  are,  in- 
deed, constantly  employed.  These  are  the  adverbs  ne 
and  eke.  They  were  apparently  the  only  words  of  which 
these  imitators  had  grasped  the  full  significance,  and 
in  consequence  they  are  scattered  about  the  lines  in 
profusion.  Yet  even  of  them  the  knowledge  was  not 
a universal  knowledge.  Prior,  for  instance,  used  the 
adverb  ne  in  the  sense  of  the  adjective  7io. 

Still,  it  was  not  in  the  vocabulary,  but  in  the  gram- 
mar, that  the  most  startling  contributions  were  made 
to  the  language.  One  illustration,  easy  of  comprehen- 
sion, will  suffice  to  make  the  point  plain.  In  Chaucer 
the  plural  of  the  present  tense  of  the  verb  ended  in  en, 
if  it  had  the  full  termination ; but  this  termination  was 
never  used  by  him  in  the  singular  of  this  tense,  or  by 
any  other  author  in  any  dialect  of  our  tongue  who  wrote 
English  as  it  is,  and  not  as  it  has  been  supposed  to  be. 
Thus  it  follows  that  in  the  fourteenth  century  one  could 
say  we^  or  ye,  or  t/iey  loven ; but  it  would  have  been  as 
impossible  then  to  say  I,  or  thou,  or  he  loven  as  it  is 
now.  This  distinction  it  does  not  require  any  prolonged 
study  of  the  works  of  the  poet  to  observe.  Yet  it  was 
evidently  something  that  had  never  attracted  the  at- 
tention of  his  imitators.  The  forms  which  he  would 
not  and  could  not  have  used  were  the  very  forms  which 
they  used  by  preference.  This  was  a species  of  blun- 


EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  IMITATIONS  125 

der  that  was  early  made.  It  can  be  found,  as  we  have 
already  seen,  in  a production  that  goes  so  far  back  as 
the  ‘Court  of  Love.’^  But  it  is  the  writers  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century  who  display  most  signally  the  disposition 
to  resort  to  this  particular  spurious  form.  Their  fond- 
ness for  the  singular  in  en  amounted  almost  to  a morbid 
craving.  Gay,  for  instance,  has  in  a poem  of  about  sev- 
enty lines  such  phrases  as  ‘ It  maken  doleful  song,’ 
‘ There  spreaden  a rumour,’  and  ‘ Fear  createn,’  and 
numerous  other  specimens  of  this  peculiar  grammatical 
concord.^  “ If  in  mine  quest  thou  falsen  me,”  says  Fen- 
ton in  his  “ tale  devised  in  the  pleasant  manner  of  gen- 
tle Geoffrey  Chaucer.”  “ Ne  hopen  I his  permagall 
to  see,”  exclaims  William  Thompson  in  the  inscription 
he  wrote  entitled  ‘ In  Chaucer’s  Boure.’  Spenser  had 
previously  failed,  to  some  extent,  to  understand  the  poet 
he  admired  and  studied.  In  these  imitations  we  find 
the  sort  of  work  that  would  naturally  be  made  by  men 
who  failed  even  to  understand  Spenser. 

The  most  successful  of  these  pieces — if  successful  be 
a term  properly  applied  to  what  in  no  case  succeeded — 
was  the  work  of  the  Reverend  Thomas  Warton,  for  ten 
years  professor  of  poetry  at  Oxford,  but  better  known 
now  as  the  father  of  two  more  eminent  sons.  He  had 
not  the  genius  to  rise,  even  remotely,  to  the  level  of  his 
great  original ; but  the  scholar’s  habit  of  accuracy  saved 
him  from  the  gross  blunders  into  which  mere  men  of 
letters  fell  heedlessly.  His  production,  in  consequence, 
has  one  distinguishing  advantage  over  that  of  his  rivals 

^ See  vol.  i,,  pp,  502  and  503.  ymously  in  Lintot’s  Miscellany,  en- 

^ ‘ ‘ An  Answer  to  the  Sompner’s  titled  Poems  on  Several  Occasions 
Prologue  in  Chaucer,”  printed  anon-  (1717),  p.  147. 


126 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


in  this  species  of  composition.  It  is  written  in  the  Eng- 
lish language.  Moreover,  he  had  the  sagacity  do  select 
for  his  experiment  a passage  which  lends  itself  with 
comparative  ease  to  imitation.  This  was  the  charac- 
terization of  the  birds  that  is  found  in  the  ^ Parliament 
of  Fowls.’  It  was  after  the  fashion  set  by  Chaucer  in 
that  poem  that  Warton  paraphrased  the  verses  in  the 
eleventh  chapter  of  Leviticus,  which  laid  down  the  law 
in  regard  to  the  winged  animals  that  the  Jews  were  to 
hold  unclean.^  As  his  was  perhaps  the  best  of  these 
pieces,  what  is  probably  on  the  whole  the  worst  was  the 
composition  of  the  most  pretentious  poetical  prig  that 
the  eighteenth  century  produced.  This  was  Mason, 
who  still  lingers  in  literary  history,  after  a vicarious  fash- 
ion, as  the  friend  of  Gray.  He  was  himself,  however, 
not  actually  devoid  of  poetical  ability.  At  least  at  one 
period  of  his  life  spitefulness  gave  a vigor  to  his  pen 
which  inspiration  was  never  able  to  impart,  and  he  pro- 
duced, as  a result,  some  abusive  and  therefore  still  read- 
able satires.  The  imitation  to  which  reference  has  been 
made  consists  of  nothing  but  a single  passage  in  a 
longer  poem.  Still,  in  a certain  way,  it  is  the  most  in- 
teresting specimen  of  these  spurious  reproductions  of 
the  past.  It  is  brief,  and  it  is  comprehensive.  It  com- 
bines in  the  compass  of  some  two  dozen  lines  about 
all  the  peculiarities  of  halting  verse,  bad  grammar,  un- 
couth words,  and  impossible  inflections  which  consti- 
tuted what  the  eighteenth  century  chose  to  consider 
the  antique  diction  of  Chaucer. 

^ Poems  on  Several  Occasions^  by  the  Rev.  Thomas  Warton  (1748), 

p.  30. 


EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  IMITATIONS 


12; 


The  poem  of  which  this  imitation  was  a part  was  oc- 
casioned by  the  death  of  Pope.  That  event  took  place 
in  1744.  Some  time  after,  Mason  wrote  a monody  upon 
the  dead  poet  which  was  published  in  1747.  It  bore 
the  title  of  ‘ Musaeus,’  and  was  a particularly  feeble  echo 
of  the  ‘ Lycidas  ’ of  Milton.  The  plan  of  that  pastoral 
it  followed  pretty  closely.  Chaucer,  Spenser,  and  Mil- 
ton  were  represented  as  coming  to  mourn  the  inevita- 
ble loss  of  him  who  was  about  to  die.  In  the  pas- 
sages in  which  they  were  introduced  as  giving  expres- 
sion to  their  sorrow.  Mason  strove  to  reproduce  their 
respective  styles,  as  he  did  also  that  of  Pope  himself. 
It  is,  everywhere,  a mere  mechanical  imitation  from 
which  the  life  is  effectually  excluded.  Poor  as  it 
was  in  the  case  of  the  later  poets,  it  was  in  the  repre- 
sentation of  the  manner  of  the  earliest  that  the  fal- 
setto note  which  runs  through  all  of  Mason’s  work 
exhibits  itself  in  its  fullest  and  harshest  form.  It  is 
in  the  following  artless  strains,  as  he  would  have  con- 
sidered and  called  them,  that  Chaucer  is  represented 
as  chanting  his  contribution  to  the  general  wail  of 
woe : 

“ First,  sent  from  Cam’s  fair  banks,  like  Palmer  old. 

Came  Tityrus  slow,  with  head  all  silvered  o’er. 

And  in  his  hand  an  oaken  crook  he  bore. 

And  thus  in  antique  guise  short  talk  did  hold : 

‘Crete  clerk  of  Fame’is  house,  whose  excellence 
‘ Male  wele  befitt  thilk  place  of  eminence, 

‘ Mickle  of  wele  betide  thy  houres  last, 

‘For  mich  gode  wirke  to  me  don  and  past. 

‘ For  syn  the  days  whereas  my  lyre  ben  strongen, 

‘ And  deftly  many  a mery  laie  I songen. 


128 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


‘ Old  Time,  which  alle  things  don  maliciously 
‘Gnawen  with  rusty  tooth  continually, 

‘ Gnattrid  my  lines,  that  they  all  cancrid  ben,  ' 

‘Till  at  the  last  thou  smoothen  ’hem  hast  againi 
‘Sithence  full  semely  gliden  my  rimes  rude, 

‘As,  (if  fitteth  thilk  similitude) 

‘Whanne  shallow  brook  yrenneth  hobling  on, 

‘ Ovir  rough  stones  it  makith  full  rough  song : 

‘ But,  them  stones  removen,  this  lite  rivere 
‘ Stealith  forth  by,  making  plesaunt  murmere : 

‘ So  my  sely  rymes,  whoso  may  them  note, 

‘ Thou  makist  everichone  to  ren  right  sote : 

‘And  in  thy  verse  entunist  so  fetisely, 

‘ That  men  sayen  I make  trewe  melody, 

‘And  speaken  every  dele  to  myne  honoure. 

‘ Mich  wele,  grete  clerk,  betide  thy  parting  houre.’  ” 

He  is  then  represented  as  ceasing  his  “homely  ryme” 
and  making  place  for  Spenser. 

No  student  of  Chaucer  needs  to  be  told  that  language 
is  hardly  contemptuous  enough  to  set  forth  satisfactorily 
the  contemptible  character  of  this  imitation.  It  is  an 
outrage  both  upon  the  memory  of  the  poet  and  of  the 
speech  in  which  he  wrote.  Yet  there  is  no  question  that 
it  was  generally  thought  at  the  time  to  be  a successful 
reproduction  of  the  diction  of  Chaucer.  Mason  was 
hailed  by  some  as  the  coming  poet  upon  the  strength  of 
this  one  production.  Even  as  late  as  1806  Bowles  in 
his  edition  of  Pope^  styled  it  “the  exquisite  Musaeus.” 
That  this  cuckoo  song  could  so  long  have  been  mistaken 
for  the  note  of  a nightingale  is  one  of  those  perversities 
of  criticism  which  leave  the  reader  in  doubt  whether 


^ Vol.  i.,  p.  cxviii. 


EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  IMITATIONS  1 29 

there  is  in  reality  anything  that  can  be  deemed  even 
remotely  a standard  of  taste.  The  affirmative  view  can 
only  be  maintained  in  this  case  upon  the  ground  that 
knowledge  is  essential  to  any  proper  literary  judgment, 
and  that  then  knowledge  of  our  early  speech  did  not 
exist.  The  passage  which  purported  to  represent  Chau- 
cer’s style  found  censurers,  it  is  true  : but  it  was  its  pro- 
priety that  was  called  in  question,  not  its  accuracy.  A 
slight  controversy  on  this  very  point  was  carried  on  in 
the  ‘ Gentleman’s  Magazine  ’ for  1749.  A correspondent 
who  signed  himself  C.  B.,  and  evidently  a pronounced 
advocate  of  the  process  of  modernization  then  going  on, 
took  Mason  seriously  to  task  for  the  raiment  in  which 
he  had  clothed  his  monody.  Do  we  read  Chaucer  or 
Spenser,  he  asked,  for  their  language  or  for  their  senti- 
ments? Most  assuredly  for  their  sentiments,  was  his  re- 
ply to  his  own  question.  He  then  went  on  to  pay  a 
tribute  to  Pope  for  the  modernizations  he  had  made. 
“ Who,”  he  wrote,  “ can  read  those  embellished  tales  of 
Chaucer,  and  the  no  less  improved  satires  of  Dr.  Donne, 
without  admiring  the  piety  as  well  as  poetry  of  him  who 
has  rescued  from  oblivion  what  must  else  have  perished 
in  the  ruins  of  an  antiquated  style,  and  given  them  im- 
mortality by  a language  which  we  trust  will  never  die?” 
C.  B.  was  not  to  have  it  all  his  own  way,  however.  B.  C., 
a rival  and  reversed  representative  of  the  alphabet,  at- 
tacked speedily  his  position.  The  communication  was 
evidently  inspired  by  Mason,  and  perhaps  written  by 
him.  It  had  nothing  but  contempt  for  the  opposing 
view.  This  it  expressed  with  all  the  forcible  feebleness 
of  italicized  words.  I own,”  he  wrote,  “ till  this  in- 
III.— 9 


130  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

stant  I was  thoughtless  enough  to  admire  with  the  mul- 
titude the  dress  of  Mr.  Mason  s pla7t  as  a piece  of  the 
most  delicate  propriety ; and  really  imagined  that  Chau- 
cer and  Spenser  made  a more  natural  and  easy  figure  in 
the  cloathes  they  were  used  to  wear,  than  any  he  could 
have  supplied  them  with  of  the  modern  cut.”  It  would 
be  a hard  task  to  decide  now  which  of  these  two  dispu- 
tants had  shallower  knowledge  of  the  points  in  controver- 
sy. One’s  respect  for  Tyrwhitt  constantly  rises  the  more 
fully  he  gets  an  insight  into  the  ideas  usually  prevalent 
in  the  eighteenth  century  in  regard  to  the  English  lan- 
guage in  general  and  to  that  of  Chaucer  in  particular. 

I do  not  mean  to  give  the  impression  that  these  imi- 
tations were  exceedingly  numerous.  Indeed,  the  most 
satisfactory  thing  about  them  is  their  fewness.  Nor 
would  it  be  just  to  say  that  there  was  universal  confi- 
dence in  their  correctness,  or  that  suspicion  of  their 
spurious  character  could  not  be  found  even  among  those 
who  made  little  pretension  to  know  accurately.  As  fa- 
miliarity with  the  authors  of  the  past  steadily  though 
slowly  increased,  this  lurking  distrust  naturally  became 
bolder.  It  might  not  dare  to  assert  itself  with  positive- 
ness ; but  it  made  its  existence  felt.  Armstrong,  for  il- 
lustration, in  his  poem  on  ‘Taste,’  which  was  first  pub- 
lished in  May,  1753,  took  occasion  to  satirize  some  of 
the  sentiments  then  generally  entertained  about  the 
popular  writers  of  the  age  preceding  his  own.  Towards 
Prior,  as  exhibiting  the  characteristics  of  Spenser,  he  was 
especially  contemptuous.  He  indulged  in  several  de- 
rogatory comparisons  as  to  the  likeness  of  the  writings 
of  that  poet  to  their  assumed  inspirer.  The  particular 


EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  IMITATIONS  131 

comparison  with  which  it  concludes  has  for  us  a special 
interest ; for  in  it  he  intimates  that  Prior  had  been  no 
more  successful  in  reproducing  the  style  of  Chaucer  than 
he  had  that  of  Spenser.  Yet  while  he  expressed  an 
opinion  to  that  effect,  he  expressed  it  guardedly.  He 
spoke  as  if  he  were  not  absolutely  certain  of  the  truth 
of  the  criticism  he  made.  He  was  sufficiently  a student 
of  Spenser  to  feel  justified  in  taking  the  position  about 
him  he  did.  In  the  case  of  Chaucer  there  was  not  famil- 
iarity enough  with  his  language  to  beget  this  confidence. 
The  very  couplet,  therefore,  which  contained  the  dis- 
paraging comparison  showed  Armstrong’s  distrust  of  his 
own  knowledge  as  well  as'of  the  knowledge  of  the  poet 
whose  imitation  he  was  attacking.  It  reads  as  follows : 

“ As  like  as  (if  I am  not  grossly  wrong) 

Erie  Robert’s  mice  to  aught  e’er  Chaucer  sung.” 

While  distrust  consequently  existed,  it  was  not  based 
upon  certainty  of  knowledge.  But  though  the  latter 
lingered,  it  was  nevertheless  coming.  It  was  therefore 
merely  a question  of  time  when  doubt  of  the  accuracy 
of  these  reproductions  of  the  language  of  the  past  would 
be  followed  by  denial.  This  increasing  suspicion  had 
much  to  do  with  the  fact  that  few  of  these  imitations 
were  produced  after  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury. It  is  very  rarely,  indeed,  that  they  make  their  ap- 
pearance in  the  latter  half  of  it.  Still,  one  almost  as  poor 
as  any  that  preceded  it  can  be  found  as  late  as  1791  in 
the  periodical  paper  called  the  ‘ Bee,’  which  was  edited 
by  Dr.  Anderson.^  But  the  occurrence  of  such  pieces  at 


^ Vol.  iv,,  p,  182. 


132  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

this  period  is,  after  all,  exceptional.  They  are  little  more 
than  solitary  survivals  of  a poetic  fashion  which  had  had 
for  a while  a run  with  a certain  class.  From  the  outset 
these  imitations  had  been  doomed  to  die.  As  poetical 
exercises  they  had  evidently  failed,  and  that  had  been 
the  sole  justification  for  perpetrating  them  at  all.  Their 
futility  was  even  more  manifest  than  their  inaccuracy. 
The  persons  who  would  be  impressed  by  them  would  nec- 
essarily not  be  those  who  appreciated  Chaucer.  Those 
who  did  not  care  or  found  it  difficult  to  read  what  he 
wrote  could  hardly  be  expected  to  turn  willingly  to 
what  some  one  else  wrote  of  a similar  nature,  which  had 
nothing  to  recommend  it  but  a supposed  resemblance  to 
an  original  they  did  not  like  or  could  not  understand. 

At  the  same  time,  there  existed  a widespread,  though 
rather  vague,  feeling  that  there  was  a good  deal  in  Chau- 
cer that  was  worth  knowing  if  it  could  be  got  at  easily. 
His  devotees  were  few,  but  they  were  filled  with  the  en- 
thusiasm which  every  great  author  succeeds  in  inspiring 
for  himself.  As,  moreover,  they  were  usually  men  of  ex- 
ceptional cultivation,  their  intensity  of  conviction  made 
an  impression  even  upon  those  who  had  not  the  slight- 
est inclination  to  share  their  supposed  labors.  This  feel- 
ing was  an  important  agency  in  stimulating  the  endeav- 
ors that  were  made  during  the  eighteenth  century  to 
turn,  or,  as  it  was  called,  to  translate,  the  writings  of  the 
poet  into  the  current  English  of  the  time.  The  desire 
to  know  Avithout  taking  the  trouble  to  learn  was  as  po- 
tent then  as  now ; though,  in  consequence  of  the  com- 
paratively limited  number  of  subjects  that  pressed  upon 
the  attention,  there  was  not  so  much  of  an  effort  to  make 


PRACTICE  OF  MODERNIZATION 


133 


the  path  to  omniscience  short  as  it  was  to  make  it  easy. 
The  practice  of  modernization  began,  as  we  have  seen, 
with  Dryden ; at  least  it  was  he  who  made  it  popular. 
It  was  persistently  kept  up  after  he  had  once  shown  the 
way.  It  is  only  within  a comparatively  short  period 
that  it  has  been  abandoned,  if  even  yet  it  can  be  said  to 
have  been  abandoned.  That  it  contributed  at  first  to 
spread  the  name  of  Chaucer  may  be  conceded.  Farther 
than  that  it  is  hardly  safe  to  go : though  that  it  induced 
some  to  seek  the  acquaintance  of  the  original  may  be 
admitted  as  a possible,  but  by  no  means  as  a necessary, 
result.  To  the  reader  of  to-day,  indeed,  it  would  seem 
that  most  of  these  modernizations  must  have  had  the 
effect  of  deterring  men  from  the  study  of  the  poet  rather 
than  stimulating  them  to  pursue  it.  They  were  gener- 
ally uninteresting.  If  at  all  interesting,  they  were  un- 
faithful. They  furnish  as  a whole  a signally  dreary  ad- 
dition to  that  dreary  body  of  literature  which  grows  up 
about  and  incrusts  the  writings  of  a man  of  great  genius, 
which  cannot  be  ignored  by  the  conscientious  student 
of  his  works,  though  its  examination  is  as  unprofitable 
usually  as  it  is  invariably  tedious. 

Wretched  as  these  modernizations  have  usually  been, 
they  have  played  a far  from  insignificant  part  in  the  his- 
tory of  Chaucer’s  reputation.  To  understand  the  feel- 
ings that  led  to  their  production,  and  the  feelings  with 
which  at  different  periods  they  have  been  regarded,  is  to 
gain  a fair  comprehension  of  the  changes  that  during  the 
past  two  hundred  years  have  taken  place  in  the  opinions 
held  by  men  about  the  poet.  Hence,  it  becomes  a mat- 
ter of  necessity  to  recount  their  history  fully.  They  owe 


134  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

their  rise,  in  the  first  place,  to  the  existence  of  certain  be- 
liefs about  Chaucer  and  the  language  in  which  he  wrote. 
These  beliefs,  once  almost  universally  prevalent;  will  not 
seem  altogether  strange  now;  for,  though  they  have  long 
been  dying,  they  are  still  a long  way  from  being  dead. 
Strictly  they  concerned  no  one  author  in  particular.  They 
were  in  the  nature  of  generalizations  about  the  English 
tongue,  and  the  fate  that  was  sure,  sooner  or  later,  to 
overtake  every  one  who  intrusted  to  it  the  preservation 
of  his  name  and  fame.  Still,  Chaucer,  as  the  acknowl- 
edged supreme  head  of  all  who  had  written  in  the  early 
speech,  served  almost  invariably  to  point  the  moral  that 
was  drawn.  Hence,  in  making  him  the  central  figure  in 
the  discussion  of  the  causes  that  brought  about  these 
attempts  at  modernization,  we  are  only  following  the 
custom  of  our  fathers. 

The  first,  then,  of  these  beliefs  was  that  the  language 
of  Chaucer,  like  that  of  all  the  writers  of  his  time,  was 
obsolete.  It  was  obsolete  not  in  the  sense  that  it  pre- 
sented frequently  recurring  difficulties  in  the  way  of  its 
comprehension,  but  in  the  sense  that  it  required  a special 
and  prolonged  course  of  study  for  its  mastery.  For  all 
practical  purposes  it  was  a dead  language.  It  might,  in- 
deed, be  easier  to  acquire  than  Latin  or  Greek,  or  the 
English  of  the  tenth  century.  But  while  the  degree  of 
difficulty  varied  in  its  favor,  the  nature  of  it  was  essen- 
tially the  same.  Even  though,  as  compared  with  the 
classic  tongues,  the  task  of  gaining  a knowledge  of  it 
might  be  less  burdensome  in  itself,  the  facilities  for 
gaining  this  knowledge  were  far  fewer.  Dictionaries 
were  indispensable  for  its  comprehension ; grammars 


ASSUMED  OBSOLETENESS  OF  HIS  LANGUAGE  1 35 

were  desirable.  The  one  of  these  helps  existed  very  im- 
perfectly ; the  other  did  not  exist  at  all.  Nor  was  this 
notion  of  the  complete  obsoleteness  of  Chaucer’s  lan- 
guage limited  to  the  men  who  paid  no  attention  to  the 
literature  much  earlier  than  that  of  their  own  time. 
There  was  widespread  ignorance  everywhere  of  every- 
thing written  before  the  Elizabethan  period.  The  nat- 
ural magnifying  of  the  unknown  as  the  terrible  took 
place.  Moreover,  even  those  men  of  letters  who  had 
made  incursions  into  this  mysterious  realm  brought  back 
alarming  reports  of  the  toilsome  nature  of  the  journey, 
and  were  pretty  unanimous  in  the  view  that,  however 
stately  may  have  been  the  literary  structures  that  had 
been  erected  there  in  former  ages,  they  had  now  become 
little  more  than  heaps  of  ruins. 

To  the  obsoleteness  of  Chaucer’s  language,  in  particu- 
lar, a succession  of  witnesses  bore  the  most  unqualified 
testimony.  In  the  seventeenth  century  there  were  now 
and  then  found  persons  who  took  exception  to  this 
view.  Sir  Aston  Cokayne,  for  instance,  has  among  his 
poems  an  epigram  in  which  he  denounces  those  who 
hold  such  an  opinion  as  unacquainted  with  their  own 
tongue.  These  are  his  words : 

“ Our  good  old  Chaucer  some  despise : and  why  ? 
Because  they  say  he  writeth  barbarously. 

Blame  him  not  [Ignorants]  but  yourselves,  that  do 
Not  at  these  years  your  native  language  know.”* 

The  work  containing  these  lines  was  published  in  1658. 
It  is  clear  from  them  that  the  view  stigmatized  was  even 


* Cokayne’s  Chain  of  Golden  Poems  (London,  1658),  p.  155. 


136  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

then  a view  widely  entertained.  It  naturally  did  hot  be- 
come less  prevalent  as  time  went  on.  After  the  seven- 
teenth century  the  obsoleteness  of  the  poet’s  language 
was  a fact,  to  all  appearance,  universally  accepted.  From 
the  number  who  assumed  it,  or  bewailed  it,  I select 
a few  who  represent  various  grades  of  culture  and  dif- 
ferent periods  of  time.  Among  the  greatest  was  the 
poet  Dryden.  In  1679,  in  the  dedication  of  his  play  of 
‘Troilus  and  Cressida,’  he  adverted  to  the  difficulty  of 
reading  Chaucer.  “ It  would  mortify  an  Englishman,” 
he  wrote,  “ to  consider  that  from  the  time  of  Boccace 
and  Petrarch  the  Italian  has  varied  very  little ; and 
that  the  English  of  Chaucer,  their  contemporary,  is  not 
to  be  understood  without  the  help  of  an  old  dictionary.” 
Elsewhere  the  same  sentiments  are  expressed  by  him  in 
still  stronger  language.  In  1711,  Fenton  sent  to  the 
dramatist  Southerne  an  epistle  in  verse  which  was  main- 
ly taken  up  with  critical  remarks  upon  the  history  of 
poetry.  It  has,  besides,  an  interest  of  its  own  as  one  of 
several  evidences  that  the  Popean  couplet  existed  before 
Pope  had  produced  anything  which  any  one  felt  it  desir- 
able to  imitate  ; that  while  it  is  to  his  genius  that  couplet 
owes  its  universality  as  well  as  the  perfection  of  its  fin- 
ish, it  would  have  been  developed  after  a fashion  had  he 
never  lived.  In  the  course  of  his  epistle,  Fenton,  in  pay- 
ing a compliment  to  his  countrywomen,  expressed  the 
general  feeling  that  existed  about  the  language  of  Chau- 
cer. The  muse  of  poetry,  he  said,  had  in  Greece  only  a 
Venus  and  a Helen  to  celebrate ; but  when  she  came  to 
Great  Britain, 


ASSUMED  OBSOLETENESS  OF  HIS  LANGUAGE  1 37 

“A  thousand  radiant  nymphs  she  here  beheld, 

Who  matched  the  goddess  and  the  queen  excelled. 

To  immortalize  their  loves  she  long  essayed, 

But  still  the  tongue  her  generous  toil  betrayed  : 
Chaucer  had  all  that  beauty  could  inspire. 

And  Surrey’s  numibers  glowed  with  warm  desire : 

Both  now  are  prized  by  few,  unknown  to  most. 

Because  the  thoughts  are  in  the  numbers  lost.”^ 

Here  it  will  be  observed  that  not  only  is  Chaucer 
looked  upon  as  obsolete,  but  also  a writer  as  late  as  Sur- 
rey. Spenser  likewise,  and  indeed  with  much  more  rea- 
son, was  permitted  to  share  with  the  great  early  poet  in 
the  dubious  renown  of  unintelligibility.  Chesterfield,  for 
instance,  who,  in  his  letters  to  his  son,  touched  incident- 
ally upon  everything,  whether  he  knew  anything  about 
it  or  not,  could  not  be  expected  to  make  an  exception 
of  this  particular  topic.  A reference  to  it  occurs  in  the 
course  of  some  remarks  of  his  upon  the  subject  of  Latin 
composition.  He  was  particularly  urgent  that  those 
words  only  should  be  employed  which  were  found  in 
the  writers  of  the  Augustan  age,  or  of  the  age  imme- 
diately preceding.  To  enforce  his  point  he  carefully  ex- 
plained to  the  boy  the  distinction  between  the  pedant, 
and  the  gentleman  who  is  at  the  same  time  a scholar. 
The  former  affected  rare  words  found  only  in  the  pages 
of  obscure  or  antiquated  authors  rather  than  those  used 
by  the  great  classic  writers.  “ By  this  rule,”  he  went  on 
to  say,  I might  write  to  you  in  the  language  of  Chaucer 
and  Spenser,  and  assert  that  I wrote  English  because  it 

^ An  Epistle  to  Mr.  SoutJierne  from  Mr.  El.  Eenton  from  Kent,  Jan. 
28,  17H  (London,  1711). 


138  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

was  English  in  those  days : but  I should  be  a most  af- 
fected puppy  if  I did  so,  and  you  would  not  understand 
three  words  of  my  letter.”^  The  sentiment  of  Chester- 
field is,  in  a general  way,  just  enough ; yet  it  is  evident 
that  he  is  speaking  not  from  the  fulness  of  knowledge, 
but  from  the  fulness  of  ignorance.  His  words  imply  a 
degree  of  remoteness  on  the  part  of  the  poets  he  men- 
tioned which  did  not  exist,  and  on  his  own  part  a degree 
of  intimacy  with  their  writings  in  the  existence  of  which 
there  is  still  less  reason  for  believing ; for  if  he  could 
have  written  in  their  English,  he  would  have  been  aware 
that  his  son  would  not  have  found  the  difficulty  in  read- 
ing it  which  he  fancied.  Yet  this  exaggerated  concep- 
tion of  the  difference  between  the  language  of  the  writ- 
ers of  the  past  and  of  those  of  his  own  day  represented 
unquestionably  the  current  belief  of  his  time.  No  mat- 
ter whether  the  sentiment  was  uttered  by  known  or  un- 
known men,  by  authors  obscure  then  and  unheard  of 
now,  it  was  invariably  the  same. 

Deliverances  of  this  character,  in  which  Chaucer  was 
constantly  brought  in  to  illustrate  the  transitoriness  of 
earthly  reputation,  are  recorded  in  abundance  on  the 
pages  of  the  books  and  magazines  of  the  period.  He 
was  constantly  compared  to  men  whose  reputation  must 
rest  not  upon  what  they  have  said  themselves,  but  upon 
what  is  said  of  them  by  others.  His  fame  was  like  that 
of  a great  orator  whose  words  have  utterly  perished,  or 
that  of  a great  actor  who  must  trust  for  remembrance  to 
the  admiration  his  abilities  inspire  in  his  own  age  and 
the  tradition  it  hands  down.  Yet  the  one  supreme 


' Letter  dated  Sept.  27,  1748. 


ASSUMED  OBSOLETENESS  OF  HIS  LANGUAGE  139 

characteristic  of  the  renown  of  the  great  poet  is  its  pow- 
er of  self-perpetuation.  The  fame  of  the  player  is  liable 
to  perish,  because  it  is  unable  to  leave  anything  by  which 
posterity  can  judge  it  directly.  Yet  this  evident  distinc- 
tion between  the  two  professions  seems  rarely  to  have 
occurred  to  the  minds  of  the  men  of  that  age.  In  1730, 
the  great  actress  Mrs.  Oldfield  died,  and  was  buried  with 
much  pomp  in  Westminster  Abbey.  A few  years  later 
a writer,  witnessing  her  resting-place  among  England’s 
famous  dead,  was  led  to  moralize  upon  the  transitori- 
ness of  the  reputation  which  the  stage  confers.  Yet  he 
implied  that  there  was  about  it  nothing  peculiar.  The 
same  decay  of  remembrance  was  sure  to  overtake  the 
great  writers  who  were  sleeping  their  last  sleep  by  her 
side.  As  he  expressed  it, 

“ In  vain  secure  of  deathless  praise 
There  poets’  ashes  come, 

Since  obsolete  grows  Chaucer’s  phrase, 

And  moulders  with  his  tomb.”^ 

This  feeling  about  Chaucer  began  to  pass  away  after 
Tyrwhitt’s  edition  of  the  ‘ Canterbury  Tales  ’ had  been 
published  ; but  it  passed  away  very  slowly.  The  utter- 
ances of  the  early  part  of  the  eighteenth  century  still 
continued  to  be  repeated  at  its  close.  In  spite  of  the 
vast  advance  in  the  knowledge  of  the  poet’s  language, 
nothing  apparently  could  shake  the  belief  of  men  in  its 
archaic  and  incomprehensible  character.  In  1785  Pink- 
erton, under  the  assumed  name  of  Robert  Heron,  pub- 
lished a volume  entitled  ‘ Letters  on  Literature.’  In  it 

^ Fawkes  and  Woty's  Poetical  Calendar  (I.ondon,  1763),  vol.  ii.,  p,  117, 


140  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

he  propounded,  among  other  matters,  a scheme  for  re- 
forming and  improving  the  English  tongue.  One  of  his 
proposals  was  to  add  o and  a to  words  ending  in  a final 
consonant.  Walpole,  in  a private  letter  to  him,'  argued 
as  seriously  against  this  proposition  as  if  it  were  one  with 
which  reason  had  anything  to  do.  He  pointed  out  the 
havoc  such  a course,  if  adopted,  would  make  with  our 
literature.  In  the  usual  way  Chaucer  was  dragged  in 
as  the  warning  example.  All  our  poetry,”  he  wrote, 
“would  be  defective  in  metre,  and  would  become  at  once 
as  obsolete  as  Chaucer.” 

It  will  have  been  observed  that  in  these  extracts  the 
assumed  obsoleteness  of  Chaucer  was  not  looked  upon 
as  his  fault,  but  as  his  misfortune.  It  was  not  imputed 
to  any  defect  in  him,  nor  to  any  variation  in  the  taste 
of  the  public.  It  was  simply  due  to  the  treachery  of 
a tongue  that  betrayed  the  men  who  intrusted  to  it  their 
thoughts.  The  language  had  so  altered  since  the  pe- 
riod in  which  the  poet  flourished  that  he  could  no  longer 
be  understood.  As  time  went  on,  the  difficulty  of  com- 
prehending him  would  naturally  increase.  But  this  was 
the  least  of  the  burdens  that  weighed  upon  the  men  of 
letters  of  that  period.  In  Chaucer’s  obsoleteness  they 
foresaw  their  own.  The  fate  that  had  overtaken  him 
was  certain  to  overtake  all  who  wrote  in  a changing 
speech.  He  was  nothing  more  than  the  most  conspic- 
uous example  of  the  ruin  that  had  already  been 
wrought.  Waller,  as  we  have  seen, '‘had  asserted  that  he 
who  was  anxious  for  enduring  reputation  must  write  in 
Latin  or  in  Greek.  Bacon  had  before  him  carried  the 

^ Letter  to  John  Pinkerton,  dated  June  22,  1785.  “ See  page  83. 


CHANGE  IN  LANGUAGE  I4I 

principle  into  practice.  This  belief  met  with  little  dis- 
sent through  the  century  that  followed  its  utterance. 
Immortality  could  not  be  hoped  for  by  him  who  wrote 
in  the  English  tongue.  Pope,  in  his  ‘ Essay  on  Criti- 
cism,’ carried  the  doctrine  to  its  logical  extreme,  and 
applied  its  principles  to  the  predecessor  he  admired  and 
imitated.  He  summed  up  the  literary  situation  in  the 
following  lines,  the  last  of  which  remained  for  a long 
period  a stock  quotation  : 

“ Short  is  the  date,  alas ! of  modern  rhymes, 

And  ’tis  but  just  to  let  them  live  betimes. 

No  longer  now  that  golden  age  appears 
When  patriot-wits  survived  a thousand  years : 

Now  length  of  fame  (our  second  life)  is  lost. 

And  bare  three-score  is  all  that  we  can  boast ; 

Our  sons  their  fathers’  failing  language  see. 

And  such  as  Chaucer  is,  shall  Dryden  be.” 

This  view  found  wide  and  for  a time  almost  universal 
acceptance.  Dennis,  the  veteran  critical  campaigner,  at- 
tacked it,  to  be  sure,  almost  as  soon  as  it  appeared.  But 
his  hostility  is  only  a proof  of  the  favor  with  which  it 
was  received.  In  literary  matters  he  was  a born  dis- 
senter. He  belonged  by  nature  to  the  opposition, 
and  the  cardinal  principle  upon  which  he  acted  was 
to  find  fault  with  any  view  that  had  met  with  general 
approval.  He  could  not  fail  .to  be  at  times  right.  In 
this  instance  he  was  so  most  certainly.  But  even  the 
few  who  denied  the  doctrine  of  a constantly  changing 
speech  did  not  deny  that  change  was  characteristic 
of  certain  periods  in  the  history  of  a speech,  and  this 
in  the  case  of  English  included  the  period  of  Chau- 


142  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

cer.  They  took  the  ground  that  when  a language  had 
reached  the  maturity  of  its  perfection,  then  its  authors 
might  justly  hope  to  live  forever,  or  at  least  as  long  as 
it  was  maintained  in  the  polished  and  purified  state  at 
which  it  had  arrived.  This  is  the  point  that  was  made 
by  Welsted,  one  of  the  enemies  to  whom  Pope  has  given 
a somewhat  unsavory  immortality.  Yet  Welsted,  in 
controverting  the  view  which  has  just  been  mentioned, 
bore  witness  to  the  fact  that  it  was  the  one  commonly 
accepted.  “ The  vulgar  opinion,”  he  writes,  “ therefore 
is  a vulgar  error,  viz. : that  our  language  will  continue 
to  go  on  from  one  refinement  to  another,  and  pass 
through  perpetual  variations  and  improvements  till  in 
time  the  English  we  now  speak  is  become  as  obsolete 
and  unintelligible  as  that  of  Chaucer,  and  so  on,  as  long 
as  we  are  a people.  This  is  what  one  of  our  poets  laid 
down  some  years  ago  as  an  undoubted  maxim, 

‘ And  such  as  Chaucer  is,  shall  Dryden  be.’ 

But  whoever  the  writer  is,  he  certainly  judged  the  mat- 
ter wrong : it  is  with  languages  as  it  is  with  animals, 
vegetables,  and  all  other  things  ; they  have  their  rise, 
their  progress,  their  maturity,  and  their  decay.  It  can- 
not indeed  be  guessed,  in  the  infancy  of  a people,  how 
many  generations  may  pass  ere  their  language  comes 
to  this  last  perfection  ; this  depends  on  unforeseen  cir- 
cumstances and  events  ; but  when  once  a tongue  has 
acquired  such  a degree  of  excellence,  it  is  not  difficult 
to  judge  of  it,  and  to  see  it ; though  it  is  as  impossible 
to  declare  how  long  it  will  continue  in  that  purity  as 
it  was  before  to  know  when  it  would  arrive  to  it.  The 


CHANGE  IN  LANGUAGE 


143 


beauty  of  the  Roman  language  began  to  fade  soon  after 
the  subversion  of  the  Commonwealth,  and  was  owing 
to  it,  as  the  loss  of  their  liberty  made  way  for  that  in- 
undation of  barbarous  nations  which  afterwards  overran 
them.  The  English  language,  perhaps,  may  never  share 
the  same  fate  from  the  same  causes  ; it  may  remain  in 
its  present  lustre  for  many  centuries,  perhaps  not  de- 
cline from  it,  till  the  Divine  Will  shall  think  fit,  if  ever 
it  think  fit,  to  transplant  the  seats  of  learning  from 
these  to  some  other  parts  of  the  world.”  * 

This  was  the  conflicting  view  about  our  tongue  that 
came  in  time  to  modify  the  anxiety  of  men  about  its 
future.  Still,  it  was  not  the  one  generally  taken.  The 
idea  contained  in  the  extract  given  from  the  ‘ Essay  on 
Criticism  ’ was  reproduced  again  and  again,  and  with  a 
confidence  that  proved  that  no  doubt  was  entertained 
of  its  correctness.  Bancks,  one  of  the  obscure  versifiers 
of  the  time,  drew  from  it  the  conclusion,  which  must 
have  been  to  him  specially  comforting,  that  it  was  use- 
less to  attempt  to  write  well,  since  even  what  was  best 
done  must  sink  by  change  of  language  into  the  same 
forgetfulness  as  what  was  done  worst.  There  could, 
accordingly,  be  no  great  incentive  for  the  English 
writer  to  spend  time  and  pains  upon  his  productions. 
His  case  was  similar  to  that  of  the  man  who  holds  his 
lands  by  lease,  and  who  therefore  never  builds  with  half 
the  care  he  would  take  if  they  were  his  to  transmit  to 
his  descendants.’^  This  melancholy  forecast  exhibits 

. Dissertation  on  the  English  Lan-  edition  of  the  works  of  Welsted 
guage,  prefixed  to  the  volume  of  (London,  1787).  p.  123. 

Welsted’s  poetry  collected  by  him-  ^ Poems  on  Several  Occasions,  by 
self  in  1724.  Reprinted  in  Nichols’s  J.  Bancks  (London,  n.  d.),  p.  114. 


144  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

itself  at  times  in  ways  that  are  unintentionally  comic. 
Fenton,  from  whom  a quotation  has  already  been  given, 
is  now  little  known  save  as  one  of  the  assistants  whom 
Pope  employed  in  the  translation  of  the  Odyssey.  But 
there  were  those  who  in  his  days  looked  upon  him  as  a 
great  poet.  One  of  his  admirers  is  a scholar  who  is  now 
less  heard  of  than  even  the  man  he  admired.  This  was 
a clergyman  named  Walter  Harte.  He  has,  indeed,  a 
certain  claim  to  remembrance  from  the  fact  that  he  was 
a tutor  to  Lord  Chesterfield’s  son,  and  was  the  author 
of  a biography  of  Gustavus  Adolphus,  which,  certainly  in 
its  first  edition,  was  harder  to  read  than  anything  that 
Chaucer  ever  wrote.  Like  most  of  his  contemporaries, 
he  also  tried  his  hand  occasionally  at  verse.  Among 
the  pieces  he  composed  was  a poetical  epistle  to  a young 
lady,  accompanying  a present  of  P'enton’s  ‘Miscellanies.’ 
It  concluded  with  the  following  lines,  the  last  of  which, 
seriously  uttered  as  it  was,  reads  almost  like  a travesty 
of  the  noted  one  already  quoted  from  Pope  : 

“ Not  Chaucer’s  beauties  could  survive  the  rage 
Of  wasting  envy  and  devouring  age : 

One  mingled  heap  of  ruins  now  we  see : 

Thus  Chaucer  is,  and  Fenton  thus  shall  be.”^ 

This  unlucky,  not  to  say  amazing,  comparison  was  an 
escapade  of  the  writer’s  callow  days,  for  he  had  only 
reached  the  age  of  eighteen  when  the  piece  containing 
it  was  published.  But  it  is  also  to  be  remarked,  in  pass- 
ing, that  it  was  not  due  to  Harte’s  ignorance  of  the 
early  poet,  whose  works  he  spoke  of  as  being  a heap 

^ Foems  on  Several  Occasions,  by  Walter  Harte  (London,  1727),  p.  98. 


CHANGE  IN  LANGUAGE 


145 


of  ruins.  Though  a mere  boy,  he  was  nevertheless  a 
scholar.  According  to  the  manner  of  his  time  he  knew 
his  Chaucer.  Moreover,  he  admired  him,  though  the 
lines  that  have  just  been  quoted  may  not  be  thought 
to  imply  much  appreciation.  Still,  whatever  may  be 
the  value  we  attach  to  his  praise,  it  was  expressed 
strongly,  and,  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt,  sincerely.  In 
the  notes  upon  his  translation  of  the  sixth  book  of  Sta- 
tius, he  even  speaks  of  Chaucer  as  “ perhaps  the  great- 
est poet  among  the  moderns.”* 

This  belief  that  the  perpetual  change  of  the  English 
language  was  destined  to  ruin  the  reputation  of  all  Eng- 
lish authors  seems  to  have  been  an  ever-present  burden 
upon  the  hearts  of  many  whose  reputations  were  not  in 
danger  of  being  seriously  affected  by  the  fluctuations 
of  any  speech.  But  it  was  not  confined  to  them.  It 
was  shared  by  the  greatest  as  well  as  the  meanest  of 
writers.  The  men  of  that  age,  who  thought  upon  the 
subject  at  all,  had  a very  real  and  genuine  anxiety  about 
the  future  of  our  tongue.  The  greatest  poet  of  its  early 
period  could  not  be  understood.  It  was  merely  a ques- 
tion of  time  when  the  greatest  living  poet  should,  in 
his  turn,  become  unintelligible.  There  was  one  way  of 
escape  from  this  disaster  that  presented  itself  to  the 
more  hopeful.  A possible  remedy  existed,  they  felt,  if 
it  could  only  be  successfully  applied.  This  was  a some- 
what mysterious  process  called  ‘ fixing  the  language.’  The 
time  for  the  application  of  that  had  finally  come.  The 
English  speech  had  reached  at  last  a state  of  perfection 
which  it  was  hopeless  to  see  surpassed.  It  was  a mat- 

^ Poems  on  Several  Occasions,  by  Walter  Harte  (London,  1727),  p.  189. 

III.— 10 


146  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

ter  of  supremest  importance  that  it  should  be  kept  in 
this  delectable  condition.  Its  purity  must  be  guarded 
from  perils  that  would  assail  it  from  without,  and  from 
corruptions  that  were  breeding  within.  Various  were 
the  methods  suggested  to  bring  about  this  desirable  re- 
sult. The  favorite  dream  was  that  of  an  academy  which 
by  the  plenary  authority  conferred  upon  it,  or  assumed 
by  it,  should  preserve  to  the  speech  the  refinement  and 
polish  which  in  the  process  of  the  ages  it  had  acquired. 

This  is  a proposition  that  still  makes  its  appearance 
every  few  years,  but  in  a rather  faint-hearted,  if  not 
indeed  in  a sneaking,  way ; but  it  was  then  advocated 
with  almost  passionate  fervor  by  one  of  the  most  fa- 
mous of  our  writers.  It  was  in  1712  that  Swift  ad- 
dressed to  the  Earl  of  Oxford  his  celebrated  letter  upon 
this  subject.  The  avowed  object  of  this  pamphlet,  as 
expressed  upon  its  title-page,  was  to  correct,  improve, 
and  ascertain  the  English  tongue.  It  is  instructive  to 
compare  his  prophecies  of  what  would  be  with  the  facts 
as  they  are.  Every  man,  Swift  said  in  the  course  of  his 
letter,  could  hope  to  be  read  with  pleasure  for  only  a 
few  years.  After  the  interval  of  an  age  he  could  hardly 
be  understood  without  an  interpreter.  If  his  lordship 
did  not  take  care  to  settle  the  language,  he  could  not 
promise  him  his  memory  would  be  preserved  a hundred 
years  further  than  by  imperfect  tradition.  All  the  mel- 
ancholy forebodings  of  Waller  about  the  prospects  of  a 
fluctuating  tongue  were  repeated  with  emphasis  by  the 
despondent  author.  One  measure  there  was  which,  if 
taken,  promised  possible  relief.  Success  even  with  it 
was  doubtful.  Still,  it  was  due  to  the  country,  due  to 


CHANGE  IN  LANGUAGE 


147 


the  position  the  earl  held  as  minister  of  state,  that  he 
should  see  to  it  that  it  was  fully  and  fairly  tried.  This 
consisted,  essentially,  in  the  establishment  of  a body  of 
literary  physicians  to  whom  should  be  intrusted  the 
preservation  of  the  health  of  the  speech.  “If  the  Eng- 
lish tongue,”  wrote  Swift  with  the  utmost  solemnity, 
“ were  once  referred  to  a certain  standard,  perhaps  there 
might  be  found  ways  to  fix  it  forever  ; or  at  least  till 
we  are  invaded  and  made  a conquest  by  some  other 
state : and  even  then  our  best  writings  might  probably 
be  preserved  with  care,  and  grow  into  esteem,  and  the 
authors  have  a chance  for  immortality.” 

That  there  must  be  some  sort  of  fallacy  in  these  views 
is  apparent  to  even  the  least  judicious  of  the  well- 
intentioned  but  ill-informed  men  who  at  the  present  day 
are  in  a perpetual  state  of  distress  about  the  future  of 
the  tongue  they  speak.  The  minister  of  state  to  whom 
this  letter  was  addressed  did  not  devise  any  means  for 
settling  the  language.  He  probably  did  not  see  his  way 
clear  to  effecting  the  object  which  his  friend  had  at 
heart.  Yet  his  memory  is  as  well  preserved  as  if  he 
had  spent  days  and  nights  in  wrestling  with  the  prob- 
lem which  Swift  presented  and  he  left  unsolved.  Even 
though  more  than  a century  and  a half  has  gone  by 
since  this  prophecy  of  disaster  came  from  the  press,  its 
dismal  forebodings  can  be  comprehended  as  easily  now 
as  on  the  very  day  they  made  their  appearance.  Dry- 
den  and  Pope  and  Swift  still  continue  to  be  read ; and 
if  Waller  is  not  read  as  much  as  formerly,  it  is  not  be- 
cause his  language  presents  any  difficulty. 

For  the  fallacies  into  which  Swift  and  his  contem- 


148  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

poraries  fell  there  is  a certain  excuse  which  cannot  be 
conceded  to  the  noisier  but  far  inferior  mob  of  men  who, 
during  the  last  century,  have  devoted  their  unsolicited 
labors  to  the  preservation  of  the  English  tongue  in  its 
purity.  Nothing  was  then  known  of  the  causes  which 
bring  about  the  decay  of  speech,  or  of  the  circumstances 
under  which  it  undergoes  rapid  alteration.  We  now  see 
clearly  that  the  history  of  language  is  and  must  be  the 
history  of  changes.  These  changes  often  encounter  at 
the  outset  violent  reprobation,  sometimes  rightly,  some- 
times wrongly.  The  purist  may  call  them  corruptions 
if  he  chooses,  and  he  usually  chooses  to  call  them  so. 
Fortunately  the  great  world  goes  on  unheeding,  for  it 
has  a dim  sense  of  what  it  needs,  which  is  much  better 
than  the  clearest  sense  of  those  who  set  up  for  its  lin- 
guistic preceptors  as  to  what  it  does  not  need.  It  more- 
ever  sees  that  which  the  verbal  critics  fail  invariably  to 
see,  that  language  does  not  grow  corrupt  of  itself ; that 
only  when  the  men  who  use  it  grow  corrupt,  only  when 
they  decline  in  taste,  in  knowledge,  and  in  morals,  does 
it  begin  to  share  in  their  degradation,  and  that  no  speech 
can  ever  be  made  what  is  called  fixed  till  it  has  earned 
its  title  to  that  condition  by  becoming  dead.  This  gen- 
eral principle,  which  unlearned  men  have  always  uncon- 
sciously acted  on,  is  now  recognized  as  true  by  scholars. 
But  among  the  fallacies  lurking  in  Swift’s  pamphlet  there 
is  one  that  particularly  concerns  us  here  for  the  bearing 
it  had  upon  the  modernization  of  Chaucer,  both  in  re- 
spect to  its  desirableness  and  its  necessity.  This  is  the 
idea  that,  the  farther  a language  recedes  from  its  sources, 
the  more  unlike  are  its  forms  to  those  which  it  had  orig- 


CHANGE  IN  LANGUAGE 


149 


inally.  It  would  follow  as  a consequence  that,  as  be- 
tween any  two  periods,  the  farther  apart  they  are  in 
time,  the  farther  apart  they  will  be  in  their  words  and 
grammatical  characteristics.  Up  to  a certain  point  this 
may  be  true,  and  usually  is  true.  But  there  is  no  inevi- 
table necessity  that  it  should  be  true,  and  in  the  his- 
tory of  cultivated  tongues  it  is  not  true.  In  the  case, 
indeed,  of  a language  without  a literature,  the  statement 
is  perhaps  almost  invariably  correct.  The  later  the  form, 
the  less  resemblance  it  is  likely  to  have  to  its  original. 
The  movement  of  an  uncultivated  speech  may,  in  fact, 
be  fairly  enough  described  in  general  terms  as  that  of  a 
straight  line.  But  the  formation  of  a literature  of  any 
sort  checks  at  once  this  mode  of  progress.  The  creation 
of  a great  literature  arrests  it  altogether.  This  is  particu- 
larly true  of  modern  times,  in  which  the  invention  of 
printing  has  enabled  the  influence  of  the  written  speech 
to  reach  the  widest  possible  number  of  persons.  Lan- 
guage in  such  a case  ceases  to  move  in  anything  like  a 
straight  line.  On  the  contrary,  it  revolves  about  its  lit- 
erature. Its  great  authors  are  read  and  studied.  They 
influence  profoundly  the  expression  as  well  as  the  minds 
of  the  men  by  whom  they  are  admired.  If  through  the 
caprice  of  taste  the  writers  of  any  particular  age  become 
the  favorites  of  any  succeeding  one,  the  speech  of  the 
latter  period  will  tend  more  and  more  to  approach  that 
of  the  former. 

Let  us  apply  this  principle  to  the  earliest  of  the  great 
English  poets.  If  the  idea  that  underlay  Swift’s  letter 
be  true,  Chaucer  should  be  more  difficult  to  us  than  to 
the  men  of  the  eighteenth  century.  This  is  doubtless  a 


150  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

view  still  widely  held.  It  has  certainly  found  frequent 
expression.  ‘‘  A very  little  trouble,”  says  Alexander 
Smith,  in  speaking  of  the  poet,  “ on  the  reader’s  part  in 
the  reign  of  Queen  Anne  would  have  made  him  as  in- 
telligible as  Addison : a very  little  more  in  the  reign  of 
Queen  Victoria  will  make  him  more  intelligible  than  Mr. 
Browning.”  ^ Misleading  as  is  this  assertion,  it  is  safe  to 
say  that  outside  of  a limited  number  of  scholars  it  is  one 
which  would  meet  with  assent,  or  at  least  would  fail  to 
meet  with  contradiction.  Yet  it  is  the  exact  reverse  of 
the  truth.  Chaucer  is  not  merely  nearer  to  us  in  thought 
and  feeling  than  to  the  men  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
he  is  much  nearer  in  his  language.  The  difficulty  of  un- 
derstanding him  has  steadily  diminished,  and  will  con- 
tinue to  diminish  instead  of  increasing.  In  the  move- 
ment English  speech  is  now  making,  it  is  going  back  to 
its  earlier  forms  instead  of  away  from  them.  This  is  es- 
pecially true  of  the  poetic  diction.  What  was  difficult 
to  the  eighteenth  century  is  often  at  present  perfectly 
plain.  The  greater  attention  paid  to  the  authors  of  the 
past  has  made  their  words  and  phrases  and  turns  of  ex- 
pression familiar.  It  would  be  impossible  for  a lover  of 
literature  to  say  now  as  did  Charles  James  Fox,  that  Sur- 
rey was  too  old  for  him.  We  can  readily  infer  from  this 
one  remark  what  must  have  been  the  general  ignorance 
only  a hundred  years  ago.  Nor  even  was  this  idea  of 
Archaic  and  unintelligible  diction  confined  to  writers  as 
remote  as  Surrey  and  Spenser.  It  extended  to  Shak- 
speare.  On  more  than  one  occasion  Dryden  spoke  of  the 
language  of  the  dramatist,  whom  he  profoundly  admired. 


^ Dreamthorp ^ p.  232. 


IGNORANCE  OF  EARLY  ENGLISH  15 1 

as  obsolete  and  in  places  unintelligible.  Gildon,  in  his 
‘Art  of  Poetry,’  published  in  1718,  tells  us  also  that  he 
had  found  extracts  from  “ the  inimitable  Shakspeare 
rejected  by  some  modern  collectors  for  his  obsolete 
language.”  To  show  the  injustice  of  such  a charge,  he 
brought  together  several  pages  of  passages  from  that 
author. 

Examples  like  these  are  not  solitary  ones ; remarks 
like  these  are  far  from  being  singular.  The  manner  in 
which  the  men  of  letters  of  the  eighteenth  century  stum- 
bled at  words  and  phrases  which,  even  when  not  per- 
fectly plain,  present  but  little  difficulty,  strikes  the 
modern  student  not  merely  with  surprise,  but  with 
amazement.  Pope,  in  satirizing  the  antiquary  Hearne 
in  his  third  ‘ Dunciad,’  borrowed  from  Spenser  the  ex- 
pression ‘ mister  wight.'  This  means  ‘ manner  of  per- 
son.’ He  carefully  defined  it  in  a note  as  ‘ uncouth 
mortal.’  Walpole  furnishes  a more  marked  example 
of  the  prevalent  ignorance;  for  Walpole,  while  a dilet- 
tante student  of  antiquity,  was  still  a student.  He  had 
met  in  Surrey’s  description  of  Geraldine  a line  in  which 
that  poet  had  spoken  of  the  beauty  of  his  mistress  as 
that  “ of  kind.”  The  word  is  of  course  the  Old  English 
equivalent  of  ‘ nature.’  In  that  sense  it  was  in  common 
use  till  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century.  Walpole, 
if  he  read  with  the  slightest  attention  the  authors  he 
professed  to  read,  could  hardly  have  failed  to  meet  with 
it  in  this  signification  scores  of  times,  and  to  see  at  once 
that  Surrey  must  have  meant  to  describe  Geraldine’s 
beauty  as  natural  and  not  artificial.  Yet  it  is -in  this 
way  he  discusses  the  expression : “ I don’t  know,”  he 


152  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

wrote  to  Sir  Horace  Mann,  “what  ‘of  kind’  means,  but 
to  be  sure  it  was  something  prodigiously  expressive  and 
gallant  in  those  days  by  its  being  unintelligible  now.”^ 
But  the  comparative  nearness  to  Early  English  of 
the  English  of  our  day  is  most  impressively  shown  by 
the  explanations  the  poets  of  the  eighteenth  century 
felt  called  upon  to  give  when  they  attempted  to  repro- 
duce archaic  speech  by  what  seemed  to  them  archaic 
words.  Their  glossaries  presuppose  an  absolute  igno- 
rance of  terms  which  are  now  common,  or,  even  if  un- 
common in  ordinary  speech,  are  distinctly  recognized 
as  belonging  to  the  poetic  dialect,  and  not  demanding 
explanation  for  the  readers  of  poets.  Prior,  in  his  ode 
to  the  queen,  written  in  1706,  on  the  success  of  her 
majesty’s  arms,  undertook  to  imitate  Spenser’s  style. 
While  avoiding  most  of  his  obsolete  words,  he  retained 
some  few  of  them,  he  informs  us,  in  the  hope  of  making 
the  coloring  look  more  like  that  of  the  author  whom  he 
had  chosen  as  his  model.  The  words  which  he  care- 
fully defines,  and  begs  the  pardon  of  the  ladies  for  in- 
troducing, are  behest^  ‘command’;  bajid,  ^army’;  prozv- 
ess,  ‘ strength  ’ ; I weet,  ‘ I know  ’ ; I ween,  ‘ I think  ’ ; 
whilom,  ‘ heretofore  ’ ; and  two  or  three  more  of  that 
kind.  Gay,  in  his  ‘Pastorals,’  published  in  1712,  was 
kind  enough  to  add  in  notes  explanations  of  some  of 
the  words  his  polished  readers  could  not  be  expected 
to  understand.  Among  these  are  the  verbs  don,  doff, 
and  ween,  the  nouns  glen  and  dumps,  the  adjectives  scant 
and  deft,  and  the  adverb  erst.  Towards  the  middle  of 
the  century,  Gilbert  West  produced  in  imitation  of  Spen- 


Letter  dated  August  6,  1744. 


IGNORANCE  OF  EARLY  ENGLISH  1 53 

ser  a canto  on  the  ‘Abuse  of  Travelling.’  It  contained 
the  usual  number  of  words  that  were  felt  to  require  defi- 
nition. Some  of  them,  like  those  of  his  model,  needed 
it  a second  time.  One  of  the  characters,  for  instance,  is 
termed  a paragon.  This  is  explained  as  “ a rival,  or  one 
to  compare  with  her.”  Besides  other  not  specially  diffi- 
cult words  found  in  the  glossary  to  this  short  poem  are 
the  nouns  guise,  prowess,  wight,  behest,  and  caitiff,  the 
verb  wend,  and  the  adjective  meet  in  the  sense  of  ‘ fit.’ 
Even  a more  striking  illustration  can  be  found  in  Thom- 
son’s ‘Castle  of  Indolence.’  This  work  was  published  in 
1748,  a short  time  before  the  author’s  death.  To  the  first 
edition  was  appended  a page  of  explanation  of  “the  obso- 
lete words  used  in  this  poem.”  There  were  about  fifty 
given  with  their  significations.  Of  these  two  or  three 
were  obsolete  in  the  sense  that  they  never  had  any  real 
existence.  About  half  of  the  whole  number  which  it 
was  deemed  necessary  to  define  are  now  in  established 
use ; and  about  one  half  of  the  remainder  are  in  use  in 
the  dialect  of  poetry.  It  is  doubtful  if  out  of  the  whole 
list  more  than  three  or  four  would  be  thought  now  to 
require  explanation. 

Examples  of  this  sort  could  be  multiplied  almost  in- 
definitely. Imitations  of  Spenser,  such  as  was  the 
‘ Castle  of  Indolence,’  abounded  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury. They  usually  carried  with  them  a glossary.  In 
many  cases  it  was  very  necessary,  for  the  words  defined 
were  not  revivals  of  the  past,  but  merely  blundering 
creations  of  those  who  sought  to  reproduce  its  language. 
With  the  ignorance  of  the  early  speech  then  prevailing, 
and  with  the  attempts  made  to  pass  the  spurious  coin- 


154  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

ages  of  ignorance  as  the  legitimate  linguistic  currency 
of  a former  time,  it  is  little  wonder  that  the  belief  should 
arise  that  the  tongue  of  Chaucer  was  something  that 
could  not  be  comprehended  except  at  an  enormous  cost 
of  time  and  pains.  Yet  his  traditional  repute  was  such 
that  men  who  did  not  really  care  to  know  him  wished, 
nevertheless,  to  know  about  him.  As  it  was  definitely 
settled  in  the  minds  of  most  that  he  could  not  be  un- 
derstood in  the  form  in  which  he  wrote,  it  became  in- 
cumbent to  put  him  in  some  kind  of  shape  in  which  he 
could  be  understood.  This  idea  had  formed  the  burden 
of  several  of  the  commendatory  poems  that  had  accom- 
panied Kinaston’s  version  of  ‘ Troilus  and  Cressida.’ 
The  success  of  that  work,  however,  did  not  justify  any 
great  expectation  of  a literary  revival  for  the  poet  by 
the  method  which  had  been  there  employed.  No  such 
demand  had  been  aroused  for  the  portion  brought  out 
as  to  render  the  publication  of  the  remainder  a duty  to 
the  public.  Nor  had  the  fond  anticipation  been  justi- 
fied, that  through  this  particular  agency  Chaucer’s  fame 
would  reach  foreign  lands.  Latin  was  clearly  not  the 
medium  by  which  the  process  of  literary  resurrection 
was  to  be  accomplished.  A way  there  was,  however, 
which  still  remained  to  be  tried.  This  was  to  turn  the 
poet’s  writings  into  the  English  of  the  time.  Fortu- 
nately for  its  success,  Dryden  was  the  first  to  under- 
take the  task.*  After  having  received  the  sanction  of 

^ There  may  have  been  an  earlier  translated  out  of  Chaucer's  Old  Eng- 
attempt.  In  booksellers’  catalogues  lish  into  our  no7o  usual  Language ; 
I have  seen  entered  a book  purport-  but  neither  M'ith  the  volume  itself 
ing  to  have  been  published  in  1641,  nor  with  any  account  of  it  have  I 
which  is  entitled  Canterbury  Tales,  ever  met. 


MODERNIZATION  OF  CHAUCER  1 55 

his  great  name,  it  came  to  be  regarded  in  the  century 
that  followed  his  death  as  the  legitimate  course  to  pursue. 

Still,  the  idea  was  not  in  itself  new,  nor  was  Chaucer 
certainly  the  poet  to  whom  this  particular  process  was 
originally  applied.  Spenser  had  been  subjected  to  the 
same  operation  before  Dryden  took  the  matter  in  hand. 
In  1687,  the  first  book  of  the  ^ Fairy  Queen’  had  been 
brought  out  in  an  improved  form  by  a writer  who  hid 
himself  under  the  glittering  general  name  of  “ a per- 
son of  quality.”  ^ The  work  was  called  ‘ Spenser  Re- 
divivus.’  The  title-page  gave  notice  that  while  the 
poet’s  essential  design  had  been  preserved,  his  obsolete 
language  and  manner  of  verse  had  been  totally  laid 
aside.  The  main  reason  for  the  course  adopted  was 
stated  with  great  decision  by  this  person  of  quality.  He 
complained  that  Spenser’s  style  was  no  less  unintelligible 
than  the  obsoletest  of  the  English  or  Saxon  dialect.  Ac- 
cordingly, he  had  chosen  to  present  the  poet  to  the 
politely  judicious”  as  ‘‘he  ought  to  have  been,  instead 
of  what  is  to  be  found  in  the  poet  himself.”  In  this  in- 
stance the  attempt  was  a failure.  The  politely  judicious 
did  not  apparently  take  much  interest  in  this  particular 
method  of  reviving  Spenser,  the  poetry  of  the  person 
who  undertook  the  task  evidently  not  being  on  a level 
with  his  quality.  It  was  quite  otherwise,  however,  with 
Chaucer.  It  became  the  accepted  creed  of  the  eighteenth 
century  that  his  fame  could  not  be  preserved  by  the  lines 
he  had  written  himself,  but  by  what  others  choose  to 
make  of  them.  It  was  an  object  steadily  kept  in  view 
to  replace  his  rugged  verse  by  the  polished  and  elegant 

^ See  Todd’s  edition  of  Spenser  1805),  vol.  i.,  p.  clxxix. 


156  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

diction  which,  by  common  consent,  was  then  flourishing 
with  peculiar  luxuriance.  This  was  felt  to  be  rendering 
the  author  himself  a great  service,  and  contributing  in 
some  degree  to  the  advancement  of  knowledge.  The 
work  begun  by  Dryden  speedily  found  imitators.  A suc- 
cession of  writers  took  up  the  task  which  he  had  left  in- 
complete. Before  the  century  had  ended,  the  ‘ Canter- 
bury Tales’  had  all  been  turned  into  modern  English  of 
a certain  sort.  To  some  extent  other  works  of  Chaucer 
had  likewise  been  subjected  to  this  process.  In  the 
case  of  these  a consistent  preference  was  steadily  mani- 
fested for  those  which  are  now  generally  conceded  to  be 
spurious. 

These  modernizations,  as  a whole,  are  anything  but 
inspiriting.  As  it  had  been  to  a large  extent  the  fashion 
to  imitate  Chaucer  without  reading  him,  it  also  became 
a fashion  to  modernize  him  without  understanding  him. 
Dryden  is  to  be  excepted  from  this  charge.  His  ver- 
sions of  the  ancient  poet  take  the  first  rank  in  order  of 
merit  as  well  as  in  order  of  time.  No  student  of  Chau- 
I cer  at  the  present  day  would  think,  indeed,  of  placing 
them  for  a moment  beside  their  originals.  For  that 
matter  it  is  probable  that  no  student  of  any  day  ever 
did  so.  But  during  the  eighteenth  century  students  of 
Chaucer  were  few.  There  is  little  question  that  it  was 
then  the  general  feeling  that  the  poet’s  fame  had  been 
distinctly  benefited  by  having  his  ideas  expressed  in  the 
language  of  the  eighteenth  century.  In  the  eyes  of  most 
he  was  not  only  easier  to  read,  he  was  far  better  to  read 
in  the  modern  version  than  in  the  original.  This  feeling 
was  not  confined  to  those  who  were  disposed  to  deny 


PREFERENCE  FOR  THE  MODERNIZATIONS  1 57 

his  merit.  It  was  prevalent  among  the  few  who  felt,  or 
at  least  professed,  for  him  peculiar  admiration.  Nor  is 
there  any  reason  to  distrust  their  sincerity,  even  if  we  do 
their  judgment.  For  instance,  a little  piece  in  praise  of 
the  poet  can  be  found  in  the  ‘ Gentleman’s  Magazine  ’ 
for  1740,  under  the  signature  of  ‘ Astrophel.’  It  cele- 
brates Chaucer  in  a way  that  must  have  sounded  to  the 
readers  of  that  age  like  extravagant  adulation.  He  was 
represented  as  having  the  strength  and  fire  of  Homer, 
the  sweetness  of  Ovid,  and  the  majesty  of  Sophocles. 
So  true,  we  are  told,  is  he  to  life,  that  w^  fairly  seem  to 
see  the  men  of  whom  he  speaks.  Yet  the  composer  of 
this  fervent  panegyric  concludes  with  some  lines  which, 
if  they  do  nothing  more,  certainly  give  the  impression 
that  the  versions  then  current  in  the  English  of  the  time 
were  fully  equal  to  the  original.  In  them  he  contrived 
to  pay  a double  compliment : one  to  the  early  poet,  and 
one  to  the  living  and  the  dead  author  who  had  asso- 
ciated their  names  with  his.  It  was  a distinguishing 
merit  of  the  former  that  he  had  been  the  inspirer  of  the 
two  latter,  for,  as  the  writer  tells  us, 

“Yet  by  famed  modern  hands  new-minted  o’er. 

His  standard  wit  has  oft  enriched  their  store ; 

Whose  Canterbury  Tales  could  task  impart 
For  Pope  and  Dryden’s  choice-refining  art; 

And  in  their  graceful  polish  let  us  view 

What  wealth  enriched  the  mind  where  first  they  drew.” 

Still,  this  feeling  of  the  equality  or  superiority  of  these 
so-called  translations  was  rarely  due  to  any  comparison 
of  them  with  their  originals.  It  was  almost  invariably 
the  result  of  ignorance.  The  men  who  preferred  the 


158 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


modernizations  preferred  them  because  they  knew  little 
or  nothing  of  the  sources  from  which  they  had  been 
taken.  The  lack  of  acquaintance  could  easily  be  for- 
given, were  it  not  so  constantly  attended  with  preten- 
tious criticism.  The  elder  Colman  published  in  the  ‘Ad- 
venturer ’ an  essay  containing  a vision,  in  which  he  rep- 
resented all  authors  who  had  gained  great  fame  as  hav- 
ing been  enjoined  by  Apollo  to  sacrifice  those  parts  of 
their  writings  which  had  been  preserved  to  their  injury. 
Among  the  rest  came  Chaucer..  He,  we  are  told,  “ gave 
up  his  obscenity,  and  then  delivered  his  works  to  Dry- 
den  to  clear  them  from  the  rubbish  that  encumbered 
them.  Dryden  executed  his  task  with  great  address, 
and,  as  Addison  says  of  Virgil  in  his  Georgies,  ‘ tossed 
about  his  dung  with  an  air  of  gracefulness  ; ’ he  not  only 
repaired  the  injuries  of  time,  but  threw  in  a thousand 
new  graces.”^  When,  in  1774,  Warton  had  published 
the  first  volume  of  his  ‘ History  of  English  Poetry,’  the 
lack  of  enthusiasm  he  exhibited  for  these  moderniza- 
tions excited  attention.  It  was  felt  that  the  spirit  of 
the  antiquary  was  prevailing  over  that  of  the  man  of  let- 
ters. “ I am  sorry,”  wrote  Walpole  to  Mason,  “ Mr. 
Warton  has  contracted  such  an  affection  for  his  mate- 
rials, that  he  seems  almost  to  think  that  not  only  Pope 
but  Dryden  himself  have  added  few  beauties  to  Chau- 
cer.” “ At  a still  later  period,  and  after  Tyrwhitt  had 
made  the  poet  accessible  even  to  the  indolent,  Walpole 
reiterated  his  former  opinion.  Mason  had  told  him  of  a 
first  edition  of  Chaucer  which  might  be  procured,  if  he 

^ The  Adventurer,  No.  90,  Sept. 

15,  1753- 


2 Letter  dated  April  7,  1774. 


PREFERENCE  FOR  THE  MODERNIZATIONS  1 59 

desired  it,  for  a guinea.  He  declined  the  offer.  ‘‘I  am,” 
he  wrote,  “ though  a Goth,  so  modern  a Goth  that  I hate 
the  black-letter,  and  I love  Chaucer  better  in  Dryden 
and  Baskerville  than  in  his  own  language  and  dress.”  ^ 

In  remarks  like  these  just  quoted  there  is  something 
more  than  ignorance.  There  is  really  dishonesty.  The 
preference  expressed  by  Colman  and  Walpole  for  Chau- 
cer as  he  appears  in  Dryden’s  version  rather  than  as  he 
appears  in  his  own  words  implies  that  they  were  well 
acquainted  with  his  works  in  both  forms.  In  the  case  of 
neither  was  this  true.  Colman’s  lack  of  familiarity  is 
shown  by  the  passage  already  cited.  He  took  the  un- 
necessary pains  of  exhibiting  it  still  further  in  another 
essay  in  which  he  spoke  of  the  light  sometimes  piercing 
through  the  very  thickest  of  old  Geoffrey’s  woods.^  There 
is  plenty  of  evidence  that  Walpole  had  only  the  most 
superficial  acquaintance  with  the  poet  in  his  original 
form.  The  question  of  preference  was  therefore  not  set- 
tled in  the  minds  of  either  by  difference  of  taste,  but  by 
want  of  knowledge.  Neither  had  any  more  right  to  sit 
in  judgment  upon  the  merits  of  the  two  than  the  man 
who  can  barely  read  Greek  would  upon  the  comparative 
merits  of  the  ‘ Iliad  ’ as  Homer  wrote  it  and  as  Pope 
translated  it.  Still,  a certain  traditional  cant  of  the  kind 
indicated  lasted  down  to  a late  period.  Malone,  in  his 
life  of  Dryden,  spoke  of  the  judicious  retrenchments 
which  that  poet  made  in  his  modernizations  of  Chaucer, 
as  well  as  the  beautiful  amplifications.^  Malone,  to  be 

^ Letter  dated  Nov.  13,  1781.  ® Malone’s  Prose  Works  of  Dry- 

2 The  Connoisseur,  No.  125,  June  den  (London,  1800),  vol.  i.,  part  i., 
17,  1756.  p.  328. 


l6o  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

sure,  is  not  a man  whose  opinions  on  poetry  are  to  be 
taken  very  seriously.  But  a far  greater  name  thah  his 
can  be  cited  in  connection  with  the  expression  of  opin- 
ions of  this  sort.  Scott  lent  a half-hearted  support  to 
the  view  once  so  generally  entertained.  He  even  went 
so  far  as  to  declare  that,  in  his  version  of  the  Knight’s 
tale,  Dryden  had  “judiciously  omitted  and  softened 
some  degrading  and  some  disgusting  circumstances.” 
Furthermore,  he  thought  that,  while  the  modern  poet 
fell  something  short  of  the  early  poet  in  simple  descrip- 
tion and  pathetic  effect,  he  had  improved  upon  him  in 
the  portion  devoted  to  dialogue  and  to  argumentative 
discussion.^  In  particular,  he  spoke  with  enthusiasm  of 
Dryden’s  splendid  description  of  the  champions  who 
came  to  assist  at  the  tournament  in  the  Knight’s  tale, 
and  of  his  account  of  the  battle  itself.  He  thought,  if 
these  passages  could  not  be  called  improvements  upon 
Chaucer,  that  they  were  so  spirited  a transfusion  of  his 
ideas  into  modern  verse  as  almost  to  claim  the  merit  of 
originality. 

This  utterance  of  Scott’s,  as  contrasted  with  previous 
ones,  marks  the  change  that  was  slowly  coming  over  the 
minds  of  men.  The  superiority  of  Dryden’s  version  to 
the  original  was  stoutly  maintained  during  the  whole  of 
the  eighteenth  century.  It  was  a view  that  continued  to 
last  into  the  opening  years  of  our  own.  Sporadic  judg- 
ments of  this  kind  even  nowadays  crop  up  occasionally, 
somewhat  to  the  amazement,  and  a good  deal  to  the 
amusement,  of  the  present  generation.  We  have  not 
long  ago  been  assured  by  an  editor  of  Pope  that  Dry- 


* Scott’s  Life  of  Dryden,  p.  499. 


MODERNIZATIONS  OF  DRYDEN 


den  as  compared  with  Chaucer  has,  upon  the  whole, 
“ narrated  the  tales  in  a higher  strain  of  poetry,  in  richer 
and  more  felicitous  language,  and  with  the  addition  of 
many  new  and  happy  ideas.”  ^ It  is  always  interesting 
to  stumble  upon  these  survivals  of  the  past.  It  is  prob- 
ably well  to  have  them  as  a counter-irritant.  For  there 
has  unquestionably  been  a tendency  of  late  to  go  to  the 
other  extreme,  and  to  deny  to  Dryden’s  version  the 
merit  it  undoubtedly  has.  It  is,  in  fact,  now  little  read, 
save  by  the  professed  students  of  the  literature  of  the 
end  of  the  seventeenth  century  ; and  it  is  doubtful  if  at 
this  day  these  equal  in  number  the  students  of  the  liter- 
ature of  the  end  of  the  fourteenth.  The  result  is  that 
it  has  come  to  be  a fashion  to  depreciate  it,  just  as  it 
was  once  a fashion  to  depreciate  the  original.  As  Dry- 
den  used  to  be  extolled  above  Chaucer  by  men  who 
never  read  the  latter,  so  he  is  now  often  underrated  by 
men  who  read  Chaucer,  but  do  not  read  him.  The  man- 
ifestations of  this  ignorance  are  at  times  almost  scandal- 
ous. “ Dryden  and  Pope,”  wrote  Alexander  Smith,  “ did 
not  translate  or  modernize  Chaucer — they  committed 
assault  and  battery  upon  him.  They  turned  his  exqui- 
sitely naive  humor  into  their  own  coarseness : they  put 
doubles  entendres  into  his  mouth : they  blurred  his  female 
faces  — as  a picture  is  blurred  when  the  hand  of  a Van- 
dal is  drawn  over  its  yet  wet  color ; and  they  turned 
his  natural  descriptions  into  the  natural  descriptions  of 
‘Windsor  Forest’  and  the  ‘ Fables.’  Whatever  truth 


' Works  of  Alexander  Pope ^ edit-  ^ Alexander  Smith’s  Dreamthorp, 

ed  by  the  Rev.  Whitwell  Elwyn,  vol.  p.  232. 
i.,  p.  120. 

III. -II 


i62  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

there  may  be  in  this  attack  as  regards  Pope,  it  is  utterly 
untrue  as  regards  Dryden.  There  is  no  absolute  neces- 
sity resting  upon  any  one  to  write  essays  upon  either  of 
these  poets ; but  if  he  feels  that  it  is  something  that 
must  be  done,  it  is  not  unreasonable  to  ask  that  he  shall 
have  the  virtue  to  read  what  he  sets  out  to  criticise. 
/ Dryden  was  not  coarse  in  his  modernizations.  He  in- 
]}  truded  nothing  offensive  or  impure.  He  scrupulously 
I refrained  from  pandering  to  the  taste  of  an  age  which 
i would  have  welcomed  with  transport  the  grossest  ren- 
j dering  of  a gross  tale.  If  in  his  verses  there  is  anything 
that  remotely  affronts  delicacy,  there  is  nothing  that 
affronts  decency  ; and  whatever  violation  of  the  former 
squeamishness  may  discover  is  due  to  his  original  and 
not  to  himself. 

Dryden’s  version  has  played  a most  important  part 
in  the  history  of  Chaucer’s  reputation.  It  was  for  a 
long  period  the  medium  through  which  whatever  knowl- 
edge existed  of  the  early  poet  was  communicated  to 
large  numbers.  It  deserves,  therefore,  a carefulness  of 
consideration  and  a fulness  of  examination  to  which  the 
work  of  his  successors  is  not  in  the  least  degree  enti- 
tled. Compared  with  them,  his  merits  are  simply  su- 
preme. He  was,  in  the  first  place,  happy  in  the  selec- 
tion of  his  pieces.  He  took  the  tale  of  the  Knight,  of 
the  Nun’s  Priest,  and  of  the  Wife  of  Bath.  All  three 
are  representative  specimens  of  different  sides  of  Chau- 
cer’s genius.  In  no  case,  likewise,  do  they  touch  upon 
forbidden  ground.  But  it  was  in  the  execution  of  his 
modernizations  that  his  superiority  over  his  successors 
is  most  noticeable.  The  work  he  set  out  to  do  was  so 


MODERNIZATIONS  OF  DRYDEN  163 

well  done  that  it  may  justify  to  some  extent  the  en- 
thusiasm of  a generation  which  could  hardly  be  said 
to  know  the  original.  It  is,  moreover,  due  to  Dryden 
himself  to  say  that,  with  all  his  consciousness  of  his  own 
abilities,  he  would  never  have  put  forth  in  his  own  behalf 
the  claim  which  his  admirers  made  for  him  later,  “ I 
seriously  protest,”  he  wrote,  that  no  man  ever  had,  or 
can  have,  a greater  veneration  for  Chaucer  than  myself.” 
Certain  faults,  indeed,  he  found  with  the  early  poet’s 
work,  but  there  was  no  depreciatory  tone  in  his  criti- 
cism^y  The  principal  blemishes  he  pointed  out  were  that 
trivial  things  were  often  mingled  with  those  of  greater 
moment,  and  that  occasionally,  though  rarely,  there  was 
a tendency  to  run  into  conceits.  For  these  reasons, 
therefore,  Dryden  avowedly  did  not  tie  himself  to  a 
literal  translation.  “ I have  often  omitted,”  he  wrote, 
“ what  I judged  unnecessary,  or  not  of  dignity  enough 
to  appear  in  the  company  of  better  thoughts.  I have 
presumed  farther  in  some  places,  and  added  somewhat 
of  my  own  where  I thought  my  author  was  deficient, 
and  had  not  given  his  thoughts  their  true  lustr^  for 
want  of  words  in  the  beginning  of  our  language.”  I 
By  its  very  plan,  therefore,  Dryden’s  modernization 
is  only  a loose  paraphrase  of  the  original.  It  professes 
to  be  no  more-  The  two  writers,  therefore,  subject 
themselves  to  comparison,  both  in  their  language  and 
methods  of  treatment,  almost  as  much  as  if  they  had 
written  independent  works  upon  the  same  theme.  It 
is  under  this  comparison  that  the  later  poet  generally 
fails.  At  the  same  time,  Dryden  understood  his  author 
both  in  the  spirit  and  in  the  sense.  It  is  not  often  he 


164  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

mistakes  the  meaning,  though  he  sometimes  deviates 
from  it  purposely.  There  are  two  or  three  instances  in 
which  he  commits  blunders.  These  may  be  palliated, 
even  if  they  cannot  be  excused,  on  the  ground  of  the 
difficulty  that  existed  in  those  days  of  ascertaining  the 
right  signification.  Perhaps  the  grossest  error  to  be 
found  in  his  version  is  in  the  rendering  he  gives  of  a 
line  contained  in  the  speech  of  Saturn  in  the  Knight’s 
tale.  Here  the  god  is  represented  as  declaring  that 
superiority  of  wisdom,  if  not  of  strength,  is  accorded 
to  age : 

“ Men  may  the  old  atren  but  not  atrede,”  i59C 

he  says  in  the  words  of  Chaucer ; that  is,  men  may  out- 
run the  old,  but  not  outwit  them.  The  idea  of  this 
line  is  exhibited  in  the  modernization  in  the  following 
remarkable  couplet : 

“ For  this  advantage  age  from  youth  has  won, 

As  not  to  be  outridden  though  outrun.” 

It  is  to  be  presumed  that  Dryden  attached  some  mean- 
ing to  these  words  ; though  precisely  what  it  could  have 
been  may  puzzle  the  reader  to  decide.  Still,  mistakes 
of  this  kind  are  very  few,  and  the  errors  of  detail  are 
usually  the  errors  of  the  printed  editions.  These  some- 
times presented  wrong  readings  or  inferior  readings.  No 
blame,  therefore,  can  fairly  attach  to  the  modernizer  for 
not  rejecting  blunders  which  he  had  no  means  of  de- 
tecting. It  may  be  taken  for  granted  that  Chaucer  was 
an  author  whom  Dryden,  so  far  as  the  means  at  his  com- 
mand would  permit,  had  studied  with  diligence  and  care. 

In  the  criticisms  that  have  been  made  upon  these 


MODERNIZATIONS  OF  DRYDEN  165 

particular  modernizations,  it  is  the  additions  that  have 
received  the  highest  praise.  Little  has  been  said  one 
way  or  another  of  the  omissions.  Scott,  indeed,  called 
attention  to  the  failure  to  introduce  in  the  Knight’s 
tale  a striking  passage  in  the  portraiture  of  Mars,  whose 
statue  has  its  place  in  the  temple  built  by  Theseus  upon 
the  western  gate  of  the  lists.  Chaucer  described  the 
god  of  war  as  standing  erect  in  his  chariot,  arrayed  in 
armor  and  fierce  of  aspect.  To  this  description  he 
added  the  following  grim  picture,  which  Dryden  left 
out : 

“ A wolf  there  stood  before  him  at  his  feet, 

With  eyen  red,  and  of  a man  he  eat.”  1190. 

The  propriety  of  omissions  in  a paraphrase  like  this  is, 
however,  largely  a question  of  taste  and  judgment.  It 
is  by  the  alterations,  and  especially  by  the  amplifica-_ 
tions,  that  the  respective  merits  of  the  two  poets  can 
be  best  contrasted.  For  the  additions  Dryden  assumed 
to  himself  special  credit.  His  admirers  have  also  been 
in  the  habit  of  pointing  them  out  as  signal  improve- 
ments. Some  idea  of  the  expansion  that  took  place 
may  be  gathered  from  the  fact  that  the  three  tales  of 
Chaucer  which  he  translated  number  in  all  nearly  thirty- 
three  hundred  lines  ; in  the  modern  version  they  num- 
ber about  thirty-eight  hundred.^  More  than  five  hun- 
dred lines,  consequently,  have  been  added.  As  parts  of 
the  original  were  left  untouched,  this  indicates,  relative- 
ly, greater  amplification  than  the  mere  figures  given 
above  imply.  This  expansion  extends  to  lines,  to  pas- 
sages, and  to  ideas.  It  involves,  and  indeed  invites,  a 

^ In  precise  numbers,  3284  and  3796  respectively. 


1 66  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

comparison  which,  from  the  very  nature  of  things,  puts 
the  modernizer  at  a disadvantage.  Expansion  in  any 
sort  of  writing  is  rarely  an  improvement.  It  is  almost 
impossible  that  it  should  be  so  when  applied  to  the  lan- 
guage of  a great  poet.  Dilution  of  the  thought  is  al- 
most certainly  its  invariable  accompaniment.  In  the 
concentration  which  gives  special  force  to  some  of  Chau- 
cer’s lines,  it  was  a vain  expectation  to  rival  him  in  the 
‘ choice  of  words.  Compression  in  the  Knight’s  tale  in 
particular  had  been  carried  to  the  farthest  extreme  con- 
sistent with  the  highest  literary  effect.  There  is  no 
other  one  of  his  pieces  in  which  the  early  poet  crowds 
so  much  into  so  little  space.  The  story  never  halts,  the 
interest  never  flags.  It  is  little  wonder,  therefore,  that 
Dryden  suffers  under  the  test  of  direct  comparison. 
When  we  bring  into  contrast  the  corresponding  pas- 
sages from  the  two  authors,  we  see  at  once  how  strength 
has  been  diminished  by  the  increase  of  words.  It  is 
nothing  more  than  justice  to  the  later  poet  to  select 
lines  and  passages  which  show  him  at  his  best ; and  in 
the  extracts  taken  preference  will  generally  be  given  to 
what,  as  independent  work,  would  be  deemed  good,  if 
not  excellent.  Let  us  take  first  the  picture  of  the  May 
morning  as  drawn  by  the  two  poets.  Here  is  Chaucer’s 
description  : 

“ The  busy  larke,  messager^  of  day, 

Salueth'^  in  her  song  the  morrow^  gray  ; 

And  fiery  Phoebus  riseth  up  so  bright, 

That  all  the  orient  laugheth  of  the  light. 

And  with  his  streames  dryeth  in  the  greves^ 

The  silver  dropes  hanging  on  the  leaves.”  633-636. 

1 Messenger.  ^ Salutes.  ® Morning.  ^ Bushes,  trees. 


MODERNIZATIONS  OF  DRYDEN 


167 


Dryden’s  version  runs  as  follows  : 

“ The  morning-lark,  the  messenger  of  day, 

Saluted  in  her  song  the  morning  gray ; 

And  soon  the  sun  arose  with  beams  so  bright, 

That  all  th’  horizon  laughed  to  see  the  joyous  sight ; 
He  with  his  tepid  rays  the  rose  renews. 

And  licks  the  dropping  leaves  and  dries  the  dews.” 

This  instance  has  been  selected  at  the  outset  because  the 
number  of  the  lines  is  the  same,  and  the  rendering  of  the 
original  is  much  closer  than  usual.  A fairer  idea  of  the 
difference  in  method  and  in  expression  of  the  two  poets 
may  be  obtained  in  consequence  from  the  comparison. 
But  it  is  rarely  the  case  that  expansion  does  not  occur 
to  a greater  or  less  extent.  A careful  examination  of  sin- 
gle lines  and  couplets  will  show  how  inevitably  this  has 
been  followed  in  nearly  every  instance  by  a dilution  of 
the  thought.  It  is  none  the  less  marked  because  the  lines 
in  the  modernization  are  often  fine.  The  passage  would 
be  considered  good,  were  not  the  original  better.  It  is 
when  we  come  to  place  the  two  side  by  side  that  we  feel 
how  constantly  picturesqueness  and  force  have  been 
sacrificed  to  exigencies  of  ryme,  to  rhetorical  embel- 
lishments, or  to  inferiority  of  conception.  Chaucer  says 
of  Theseus,  when  about  to  begin  his  expedition  against 
Thebes, 

“ His  banner  he  displayeth  and  forth  rode.”  108. 

In  Dryden  we  are  merely  told  that 

“He  waved  his  royal  banner  in  the  wind.” 

This  is  not  only  weaker  in  force,  but  it  is  something 
worse.  The  main  idea  of  the  original  line,  itself  essen- 


l68  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

tial  to  the  completeness  of  the  story,  is  hardly  more  than 
hinted  at  in  the  modernization.  The  summoning  of  the 
retainers  by  the  display  of  the  royal  standard  was  the  in- 
cident which  the  earlier  poet  had  in  mind  and  which  the 
later  poet  missed  almost  entirely.  Again,  in  the  graphic 
account  which  Chaucer  gives  of  the  scenes  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  great  tournament,  there  is  among  the  details 
his  picture  of 

“ The  foamy  steedes  on  the  golden  bridle 
Gnawing.”  1649. 

In  Dryden  this  appears  expanded  in  the  following  coup- 
let, which  is  almost  as  good  as  the  original : 

“The  courser  pawed  the  ground  with  restless  feet, 

And  snorting  foamed  and  champed  the  golden  bit.” 

It  is  rarely,  however,  that  the  modernizer  is  as  success- 
ful as  this.  In  the  description  of  the  scenes  painted  in 
the  Temple  of  Mars  the  early  poet  mentions  among  the 
sights  he  beheld, 

“ There  saw  I first  the  dark  imagining 
Of  felony,  and  all  the  compassing.”  1138. 

The  contrivance  of  crime,  and  the  carrying  of  it  into  ex- 
ecution, is  expanded  by  Dryden  into  the  following  trip- 
let, with  personifications  that  are  in  sharp  contrast  with 
the  directness  and  force  of  the  original : 

“There  saw  I how  the  secret  felon  wrought. 

And  Treason  laboring  in  the  traitor’s  thought; 

And  midwife  Time  the  ripened  plot  to  murder  brought.” 

Far  inferior  to  this  in  the  description  of  these  scenes  of 
violence  and  bloodshed  is  the  utter  dilution  of  thought 


MODERNIZATIONS  OF  DRYDEN 


169 


in  the  tremendous  line  which  with  a single  stroke  paints 


the  treacherous  assassin — ■ ! 

“The  smiler  with  the  knife  under  the  cloak.”  1141. 

The  art  of  the  poet  has  here  left  a picture  which  in  its 
condensed  force  of  suggestion  has  rendered  hopeless  the 
art  of  the  pencil  to  rival.  This  vivid  image,  which  stands  / 
sharp  and  distinct  before  the  mind  and  haunts  the  mem- 
ory, is  Chaucer’s  own.  In  Boccaccio  there  is  only  a faint 
suggestion  of  it  in  Dryden  it  evaporates  into  this  fee- 
ble paraphrase : \ 


Next  stood  Hypocrisy  with  holy  leer, 

Soft,  smiling,  and  demurely  looking  down. 
But  hid  the  dagger  underneath  the  gown.” 


It  is,  in  fine,  the  besetting  fault  of  all  these  expansions 
that  addition  of  details  does  not  add  to  expressiveness 
or  force.  When  Chaucer,  in  his  description  of  Emetreus, 
King  of  Inde,  says  that 


“His  voice  was  as  a trumpe  thundering,”  1316. 


the  impression  made  upon  the  mind  is  dissipated  instead 
of  being  deepened  by  the  augmentation  of  ideas,  involv-  p 
ing  an  augmentation  of  words  as  well  as  their  alteration 
for  the  worse,  in  the  following  couplet : 

“ Whene’er  he  spoke,  his  voice  was  heard  around, 

Loud  as  a trumpet,  with  a silver  sound.” 

But  there  is  a further  disadvantage  under  which  Dry- 
den’s  version  labors  as  compared  with  its  original. 
Chaucer  has  one  quality  in  common  with  all  writers  of 

1 Boccaccio  has, 


“ E con  gli  occulti  ferri  i Tradimenti 
Vide,  e le  Insidie  con  giusta  apparenza.” — Teseide,  vii.,  34. 


170  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

greatest  genius,  especially  with  all  those  that  belong  to 
early  periods.  This  is  directness.  He  knew  what  he 
had  to  say,  and  he  said  it ; said  it  simply,  though  not 
rudely,  nor  so  barely  as  to  deny  it  at  times  the  accom- 
paniment of  beautiful  imagery.  But  the  accompaniment 
never  tended  to  hide  the  main  thought  he  Avas  striving 
to  express,  or  the  main  incident  he  was  seeking  to  make 
prominent.  He  never  indulged  in  ornament  for  the 
mere  sake  of  ornament.  His  fine  passages  all  have  a 
purpose.  Everything  he  introduces  serves  invariably  to 
heighten  the  main  effect.  It  never  substitutes  for  it 
some  other  effect,  no  matter  how  good  in  itself.  It 
never  diverts  the  attention  from  the  end  in  view. 
Consequently  many  of  his  finest  passages  are  apt  at  first 
to  escape  the  reader’s  notice.  He  is  carried  along  by  his 
interest  in  the  piece  as  a whole ; he  fixes  his  eyes  too 
closely  upon  the  catastrophe  to  which  the  events  are 
tending  to  think  much  of  the  beauty  that  lies  beside  the 
way.  It  is  not  till  he  goes  back  and  studies  the  work  in 
detail  that  he  learns  to  see  how  noble  many  things  are 
in  themselves,  as  well  as  how  skilfully  they  have  been 
contrived  to  conduce  to  the  general  impression. 

It  is  in  this  respect  that  Dryden  suffers  by  compari- 
son. He  has  made  certain  additions  which,  considered 
by  themselves,  would  be  deemed  beautiful.  For  them 
he  has  received  unstinted  praise  from  his  admirers.  But 
in  every  instance  they  are  fairly  open  to  the  criticism 
that  they  are  out  of  place  or  out  of  character.  They  are 
not  germane  to  the  situation.  Therefore,  however  good 
they  may  be  in  themselves,  they  are  not  good  in  art. 
They  could  never  have  found  admission  into  the  elder 


MODERNIZATIONS  OF  DRYDEN 


171 

poet’s  work,  not  because  he  was  not  equal  to  their  pro- 
duction, but  because  his  very  greatness  as  a poet  pre- 
vented him  from  saying  a fine  thing  merely  because  it 
was  a fine  thing.  As  an  illustration  of  this  statement  I 
select  two  passages  from  the  Knight’s  tale,  on  which 
Dryden  undoubtedly  spent  great  labor.  Of  all  the  ad- 
ditions he  made,  these  have,  moreover,  been  generally  re- 
garded as  the  most  conspicuous  improvements  upon  the 
original.  In  the  first  of  these,  Arcite  is  going  into  the 
woods  to  gather  for  himself  a garland  to  celebrate  the 
coming  of  May.  He  is  represented  by  Chaucer  as  mak- 
ing one  of  those  simple  and  natural  utterances  which 
illustrate  the  directness  of  the  early  poet,  but  which  led 
the  eighteenth  century  to  call  his  lines  homely — partly, 
indeed,  because  it  did  not  understand  how  to  read  them, 
but  mainly  because  it  had  a vicious  preference  for  elabo- 
rateness of  diction.  These  are  the  lines  of  the  original: 

“ Loud  he  sang  against  the  sunne  sheen, 

‘ May,  with  all  thy  flowers  and  thy  green. 

Welcome  be  thou,  well  faire  freshe  May, 

I hope  that  I some  greene  gete  may.’”  651-654. 

It  is  in  lines  such  as  follow  that  in  Dryden’s  version 
Arcite  welcomes  in  the  May : 

“For  thee,  sweet  month,  the  groves  green  liveries  wear: 

If  not  the  first,  the  fairest  of  the  year : 

For  thee  the  Graces  lead  the  dancing  Hours, 

And  Nature’s  ready  pencil  paints  the  flowers : 

Why  thy  short  reign  is  past,  the  feverish  sun 
The  sultry  tropic  fears,  and  moves  more  slowly  on. 

So  may  thy  tender  blossoms  fear  no  blight. 

Nor  goats  with  venomed  teeth  thy  tendrils  bite. 

As  thou  shalt  guide  my  wandering  feet  to  find 
The  fragrant  greens  I seek,  my  brows  to  bind.” 


1/2  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

This  addition,  or  expansion  as  it  may  be  called,  is  a fine 
passage.  Nor  need  fault  be  found  with  it  because  there 
is  little  to  suggest  it  in  the  original.  But  it  lacks  sim- 
plicity, and  it  lacks  still  more  naturalness.  It  is  not  the 
sort  of  speech  which  the  character  represented  would 
have  made  at  the  time  with  the  thoughts  that  were 
crowding  in  his  mind  and  the  feelings  that  were  stirring 
his  heart. 

But  a far  more  conspicuous  instance  of  the  unsuita- 
bleness of  Dryden’s  most  famous  additions  is  in  the 
prayer  of  Palemon  to  Venus.  Chaucer  begins  it  with 
absolute  directness,  begins  it  with  precisely  the  same 
kind  of  address  that  one  in  real  life,  so  situated  and  so 
believing,  would  have  begun  it.  The  following  are  his 
opening  lines : 

“ Fairest  of  fair,  O lady  mine  Venus, 

Daughter  of  Jove  and  spouse  to  Vulcanus, 

Thou  gladder  of  the  mount  of  Cithaeron !”  1363-1365. 

Dryden  leaves  out  entirely  the  first  line,  and  renders  the 
second  in  this  rather  stilted  phraseology — 

“Increase  of  Jove,  companion  of  the  sun” — 

in  which,  moreover,  he  puts  the  planet  in  the  place  of 
the  goddess.  But  before  introducing  these  lines  in  the 
petition  at  all,  he  represents  Palemon  not  as  making  a 
prayer  to  Venus,  but  as  singing  a hymn  in  her  honor. 
This  is  the  passage,  some  of  the  ideas  of  which  are  bor- 
rowed from  Lucretius : 

“Creator  Venus,  genial  power  of  love. 

The  bliss  of  men  below  and  gods  above. 

Beneath  the  sliding  sun  thou  runnest  thy  race, 

Dost  fairest  shine  and  best  become  thy  place. 


MODERNIZATIONS  OF  DRYDEN 


173 


For  thee  the  winds  their  eastern  blasts  forbear, 

The  month  reveals  the  spring  and  opens  all  the  year. 
Thee,  goddess,  thee  the  storms  of  winter  fly. 

Earth  smiles  with  flowers  renewing,  laughs  the  sky. 

And  birds  to  lays  of  love  their  tuneful  notes  apply. 

For  thee  the  lion  loaths  the  taste  of  blood. 

And  roaring  hunts  his  female  through  the  wood  : 

For  thee  the  bulls  rebellow  through  the  groves. 

And  tempt  the  stream,  and  snuff  their  absent  loves. 

Tis  thine,  whate’er  is  pleasant,  good,  or  fair: 

All  nature  is  thy  province,  life  thy  care." 

These  fifteen  lines  added  have  a beauty"  of  their  own, 
but  they  are  out  of  place  here.  It  is  a petition  that  the 
story  demands  at  this  point,  not  a rhapsody.  The  words 
which  Palemon  is  represented  as  uttering  are  not  the 
words  that  any  one  who  was  very  earnest  in  his  prayer 
would  have  spent  his  time  in  making.  The  addition 
lacks  fitness,  and  therefore  fails  in  the  requirements  of 
the  highest  art.  This  same  prayer,  as  it  appears  in  the 
modernization,  is  also  full  of  conceits  for  which  con- 
temptible is  scarcely  too  hard  an  epithet.  Nor  are  these 
unknown  to  other  portions  of  the  various  versions. 
Their  appearance  makes  it  difficult  to  understand  what 
Dryden  meant  when  he  said  that  Chaucer  occasionally, 
though  rarely,  displayed  a tendency  to  fall  into  conceits. 
From  them  never  was^any  author  more  free.  This  is 
something  that  cannot  be  said  of  his  modernizer.  In 
describing  the  suffering  of  Arcite  while  parted  from  his 
mistress,  his  lack  of  sleep,  his  loathing  of  food,  Dryden 
tells  us  that  his  hero  could  not  weep  because  he  did  not 
eat.  As  he  expresses  it, 

“ Dry  sorrow  in  his  stupid  eyes  appears. 

For  wanting  nourishment,  he  wanted  tears." 


174 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


Chaucer,  it  hardly  need  be  said,  is  not  in  the  slightest  de- 
gree responsible  for  this  novel  physiological  statement. 
There  is  an  even  worse  illustration  in  the  following  lines 
in  which  Arcite  complains  of  his  hopeless  love: 

“ Fierce  love  has  pierced  me  with  his  fiery  dart, 

He  fries  within  and  hisses  at  my  heart. 

Your  eyes,  fair  Emily,  my  fate  pursue; 

I suffer  for  the  rest,  I die  for  you. 

Of  such  a goddess  no  time  leaves  record. 

Who  burned  the  temple  where  she  was  adored.” 

The  conceit  with  which  the  passage  closes  has  not 
even  the  merit  of  originality.  It  is  borrowed  from  Ca- 
rew,  and,  with  all  its  references  to  fire,  is  frigid  enough 
for  Cowley. 

This  lack  of  simplicity,  with  its  inevitable  tendency  to 
the  use  of  fine  language,  is  most  perceptible  in  the  ren- 
dering of  the  pathetic  passages.  It  is  in  these  that  the 
early  poet  shows  his  supreme  mastery  of  his  art.  He  is 
never  tame,  and  he  never  overdoes.  The  celebrated 
parting  scene  in  which  the  dying  Arcite  bids  adieu  to 
the  woman  he  has  loved  so  long,  and  for  whom  he  has 
lost  his  life,  is  remarkable  in  Chaucer  for  the  perfect  ap- 
propriateness of  the  words  to  the  situation.  Here  are  a 
few  of  the  lines : 

“ Alas  the  w^o ! Alas  the  paines  strong 

That  I for  you  have  suffered  and  so  long ! 

Alas  the  death ! alas,  mine  Emily ! 

Alas,  departing  of  our  company! 

Alas,  mine  heartes  queen ! alas,  my  wife ! 

Mine  heartes  lady,  ender  of  my  life ! 

What  is  this  world  ? what  asken  men  to  have  ? 

Now  with  his  love,  now  in  his  colde  grave, 


MODERNIZATIONS  OF  DRYDEN 


75 


Alone,  withouten  any  company. 

Farewell,  my  sweete  foe,  mine  Emily; 

And  softe  take  me  in  your  armes  twey. 

For  love  of  God,  and  hearken  what  I say.” 

The  effectiveness  of  these  lines  is,  in  a measure,  marred 
by  separation  from  the  context.  Yet  the  most  careless 
reader  will  be  struck  by  their  absolute  simplicity.  They 
are  the  ejaculations  of  a dying  man,  natural  to  the  occa- 
sion, and  pathetic  because  of  their  naturalness.  Instead 
of  these  broken  words,  which  go  to  the  heart  because 
they  come  from  the  heart,  Dryden  has  given  us  a most 
elaborate  death-bed^discourse.  It  is  nearly  double  the 
length  of  the  original.  It  is  unnatural  in  some  of  its 
thoughts,  it  is  occasionally  stilted  in  its  language ; and 
it  almost  plunges  into  the  region  of  bathos  in  the  follow- 
ing couplet : 

“ This  I may  say,  I only  grieve  to  die 
Because  I lose  my  charming  Emily.” 

Besides  the  three  tales  which  have  been  mentioned, 
Dryden  made  a version  of  ‘ The  Flower  and  the  Leaf.’ 
He  turned  its  seven-line  stanza  into  heroic  couplets. 
This  necessitated  even  a wider  departure  from  the  orig- 
inal than  was  required  in  the  modernization  of  the  other 
works  in  which  the  measure  was  essentially  the  same. 
He  made  also  a certain  change  in  the  character  of  the 
piece  by  representing  the  scene  portrayed  as  a fairy 
show,  and  the  two  companies  of  adherents  of  the  flower 
and  of  the  leaf  as  fairies  who  had  once  been  clothed 
with  human  bodies,  but  were  destined  to  wander  in  the 
shades  of  night  till  doomsday.  For  additions  of  senti- 


176  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

merit  in  modernizations  of  this  kind  there  can  be  given 
a sort  of  justification  ; but  addition  or  alteration  of  inci- 
dent is  certainly  unwarranted  in  what  purports  to  be  a 
translation.  In  this  respect  Dryden  took  great  liberties, 
and  his  example  was  followed  by  his  successors.  Unau- 
thorized additions  occur  in  various  parts  of  these  pieces. 
Interpolations  of  particulars,  and  even  of  incidents,  are 
found,  for  which  there  was  not  a remote  suggestion  in  his 
original.  The  grossest  case  of  this  kind  is  in  his  version 
of  the  Wife  of  Bath’s  tale.  This  is  essentially  a fairy 
story.  In  Chaucer  the  heroine  is  a young  and  beautiful 
woman  who  has  by  unmentioned,  but  evidently  malig- 
nant, agency  been  transformed  into  a foul,  ill-favored 
crone.  It  is  implied,  though  not  asserted,  that  in  this 
condition  she  must  remain  until  some  one  can  be  pre- 
vailed upon  to  receive  her  as  a bride  with  all  her  de- 
formity, and  ignorant  of  the  transformation  that  is  to 
restore  her  to  her  true  shape.  It  is  for  this  end,  there- 
fore, that  she  is  laboring  solely.  But  in  Dryden’s  ver- 
sion she  is  no  mere  passive  sufferer  from  a wrong  in- 
flicted by  a malign  and  hostile  influence  possessed  of 
preternatural  power.  She  is  herself  a proficient  in  magic 
art.  She  has  the  infernal  world  at  her  command.  When 
her  offer  is  accepted  by  the  knight,  she  spreads  her  man- 
tle on  the  ground,  and  transfers  him  with  furious  rapid- 
ity to  King  Arthur’s  court,  while  his  horse  is  also  brought 
thither  by  some  devil  subject  to  her  will.  The  alteration 
was  objectionable  because  it  was  false  to  the  original, 
false  to  the  belief  upon  which  the  original  was  founded, 
and  false  to  the  central  idea  of  the  story.  The  beau- 
tiful woman  of  Chaucer,  suffering  from  the  influence  of 


MODERNIZATIONS  OF  DRYDEN  1 77 

malignant  hate,  becomes  in  Dryden  a practitioner  of  the 
black  art,  leagued  with  the  powers  of  the  lower  world, 
and  sharing  in  the  privileges  with  which  subservience  to 
their  will  is  rewarded. 

One  other  piece  contained  in  this  volume  remains  to 
be  noticed.  This  is  the  one  called  ‘ The  Character  of  a 
Good  Parson.’  It  has  often  been  spoken  of  as  a mod- 
ernization of  the  character  of  the  Parson  in  the  general 
Prologue  to  the  ‘Canterbury  Tales.’  It  is  certain  that 
such  was  the  place  it  filled  in  the  volumes  of  collected 
versions  that  were  subsequently  published.  Still,  this 
it  was  not,  nor  did  it  so  pretend  to  be.  The  title-page 
prefixed  to  it  sufficiently  indicated  its  nature.  That  de- 
scribed it  not  as  modernized  from  Chaucer,  but  as  imi- 
tated from  him  and  enlarged.  Of  the  latter  fact  there 
can  be  no  question.  The  forty  lines  of  the  original  arel 
represented  in  the  imitation  by  one  hundred  and  forty. 
It  was  written  at  the  instigation  of  Pepys,  as  we  have 
seen,  and  the  plain  purport  of  its  composition  was  to 
celebrate  the  nonjuring  clergy  who  had  given  up  place 
and  profit  rather  than  abandon  their  allegiance  to  the 
house  of  Stuart.  Consequently,  Chaucer’s  words  furnish 
little  more  than  general  hints  for  the  portraiture  of  the 
character.  Dryden,  therefore,  cannot  justly  be  censured 
for  failing  to  adhere  faithfully  to  a description  which  he 
had  purposely  taken  in  order  to  introduce  variations 
suitable  to  the  occasion.  Far  more  fault  can  rightfully  be 
found  with  his  use  of  these  professed  translations  for  the 
sake  of  intruding  comments  upon  the  political  situation 
of  his  time,  and  excuses  for  the  license  of  his  own  writ- 
ings. “The  churles  rebelling”  of  Chaucer — a pretty 
III.— 12 


178 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


plain  reference  to  Wat  Tyler’s  insurrection — becomes  in 
Dryden  the  rebellion  of  the  churls  “ against  the  native 
prince and,  lest  there  should  be  any  doubt  as  to  his 
allusion  to  the  revolution  of  1688,  he  adds,  with  no  au- 
thority for  it  from  his  original,  the  further  particulars  of 
‘‘bought  senates”  and  “deserting  troops.”  In  the  Wife 
of  Bath’s  tale  he  even  defended  himself  against  Col- 
lier’s attack  upon  the  immorality  of  his  dramatic  pro- 
ductions. There  he  pleaded  as  an  excuse  the  evil  influ- 
ence of  a wicked  monarch.  He  put  in  Chaucer’s  mouth 
the  following  remarks  about  the  stage,  though  Chaucer 
flourished  at  a period  when  the  stage  had  no  exist- 
ence : 

“ The  king  himself,  to  nuptial  ties  a slave, 

No  bad  example  to  his  poets  gave : 

And  they  not  bad,  but  in  a vicious  age. 

Had  not  to  please  the  prince  debauched  the  stage.” 

But  indeed,  throughout  these  poems,  Dryden  was  in  many 
places  intentionally  unfaithful  to  his  original.  The  sen- 
timents expressed  were  his  sentiments,  and  not  those  of 
Chaucer.  The  ideas  were  frequently  the  ideas  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  and  not  of  the  fourteenth. 

I have  taken  pains  to  do  justice  to  Dryden’s  modern- 
ization by  quoting  some  of  its  fine  passages  as  well  as 
some  of  its  failures.  The  lines  that  have  been  cited, 
comparatively  few  as  they  are,  make  the  essential  differ- 
ences between  the  two  writers  sufficiently  recognizable. 
After  such  a comparison  there  will  be  few  found  to  deny 
that  the  later  poet  is  inferior  to  the  earlier,  not  only  in 
felicity  of  diction,  but  in  the  knowledge  of  his  art.  The 
judgment  that  ever  rated  him  superior  was  born  of  igno- 


MODERNIZATIONS  OF  POPE 


179 


ranee,  not  of  critical  insight.  But  it  by  no  means  follows 
because  Dryden’s  version  was  not  equal  to  the  original 
that  it  was  a bad  thing  in  itself.  Yet  this  is  an  assertion 
now  sometimes  made.  It  is  most  unjust.  Successive 
generations  have  borne  the  witness  of  time  to  its  excel- 
lence as  well  as  to  its  popularity.  While  this  may  not 
be  absolutely  binding  upon  modern  opinion,  it  is  suffi- 
cient to  require  that  those  who  decry  should  at  least 
take  the  trouble  to  read.  Dryden’s  modernizations,  with 
all  their  admitted  defects,  are,  in  truth,  noble-spirited 
poems.  The  gold  of  Chaucer  has  been  transmuted  into 
silver,  it  is  true ; but  silver  is  a precious  metal,  even  if 
not  so  precious  as  gold. 

Much  less  praise  can  be  awarded  to  Pope,  who  was  the 
next  in  order  to  appear  with  attempts  at  modernization. 
In  fact,  scarcely  any  praise  can  be  awarded  to  him  at  all. 
Little  attention  would  ever  have  been  paid  to  his  ver- 
sions, had  it  not  been  for  the  fame  he  acquired  by  his 
other  works.  It  was  in  the  sixth  volume  of  ‘ Tonson’s 
Miscellany’  that  his  first  effort  in  this  direction  was  pub- 
lished. The  tale  he  selected  was  the  Merchant’s,  and 
the  title  he  gave  it  was  ‘ January  and  May.’  Though  it 
came  out  in  1709,  when  Pope  was  but  twenty-one  years 
old,  he  professed  that  it  had  been  written  when  he  was 
but  sixteen  or  seventeen  years  of  age.  The  assertion 
has  been  questioned,  but  there  is  nothing  in  the  execu- 
tion of  the  work  to  make  the  statement  seem  at  all  ex- 
traordinary in  the  case  of  a poet  so  unusually  precocious 
as  was  he.  There  is,  indeed,  in  the  lines  the  same  smooth- 
ness of  versification  he  always  displayed  ; there  is  the 
same  perfectly  polished,  if  somewhat  artificial,  phraseol- 


l80  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

ogy  to  which  we  are  accustomed ; there  is  the  anticipa- 
tion at  least,  if  not  quite  the  realization,  of  that  same 
pointed  expression  which,  as  it  came  to  be  developed 
later,  was  to  contribute  so  large  a share  to  the  small  cur- 
rency of  English  quotation.  The  things  that  are  lack- 
ing are  not  so  much  things  of  the  intellect  as  of  the 
spirit.  We  look  in  vain  in  these  mechanically  correct 
and  carefully  balanced  lines  for  the  absolute  naturalness 
of  the  original,  its  exquisite  ease,  and  the  delicate  humor 
which  makes  itself  felt  everywhere,  and  is  not  obtrusive 
anywhere.  For  it  is  the  special  characteristic  of  Pope’s 
modernizations  that  he  puts  in  the  very  front  what 
Chaucer  purposely  kept  in  the  background.  Where  the 
one  suggests  or  insinuates,  the  other  asserts.  Much,  too, 
has  been  omitted,  and  the  omissions  are  not  in  the  nat- 
ure of  improvements.  Still  less  are  the  changes.  Even 
the  daring  but  delicious  absurdity  of  transforming  Pluto 
and  Proserpine  into  the  king  and  queen  of  faery,  and  put- 
ting in  the  mouths  of  the  rulers  of  the  gloomy  under- 
world of  heathen  mythology  a discussion  upon  the  moral 
character  of  Solomon,  this  has  been  altered — judiciously 
altered,  the  judicious  editors  of  Pope  tell  us.  Nor  even 
on  the  score  of  morality  was  there  any  gain,  though 
claims  to  this  effect  have  been  constantly  made.  In 
fact,  there  was  nothing  that  could  be  gained  on  that 
score,  if  the  piece  was  to  be  translated  at  all.  Certain 
words  and  phrases  which  would  have  been  deemed  spe- 
cially indecorous  do  not,  indeed,  appear;  but  the  ideas 
and  facts  which  suggest  them  are  neither  hidden  nor 
veiled.  Pope’s  omissions,  upon  which  stress  has  been 
laid,  are  due  mainly  to  the  fact  that  he  omitted  a great 


MODERNIZATIONS  OF  POPE 


deal  of  his  original  without  any  special  reference  to  its 
moral  quality. 

But  his  failure  was  far  greater  in  the  prologue  to  the 
Wife  of  Bath’s  tale.  His  version  of  this  appeared  in 
1714,  in  a poetical  collection  which  was  edited  by  Steele, 
and  bore  Tonson’s  imprint  upon  its  title-page.  In  this 
volume  it  occupied  the  first  place.  The  prologue  to 
the  Wife  of  Bath’s  tale  is  a great  poem  as  it  came  from 
Chaucer’s  hands.  In  certain  respects  it  is  not  surpassed 
by  anything  he  ever  wrote.  Pope’s  version  of  it  hardly 
rises  at  best  above  agreeable  commonplace.  It  is  shorter 
by  the  omission  of  nearly  half  the  original.  But  there 
has  a good  deal  more  been  left  out  than  a number  of 
lines.  The  humor,  the  wit,  the  keen  observation  of  life, 
the  undertone  of  melancholy  which  runs  persistently 
through  the  rollicking  utterance  that  characterizes  this 
remarkable  production — these  are  but  faintly  reflected 
in  this  paraphrase.  The  outspokenness  of  the  original 
has  been  generally  avoided  or  rather  omitted.  For  it, 
however,  there  has  been  substituted  a veiled  coarseness 
and  meretriciousness,  intrinsically  more  disagreeable. 
What  was  merely  incidental  in  the  early  poem  became 
in  its  modernized  version  the  one  thing  upon  which  the 
attention  was  supremely  fixed.  Pope,  indeed,  failed 
utterly  to  comprehend  the  character  which  Chaucer  was 
drawing.  In  this  he  has  had  plenty  of  imitators,  both 
in  earlier  and  in  later  times.  But  their  lack  of  compre- 
hension affects  only  themselves  ; his  affected  the  repu- 
tation of  the  poet  and  the  character  of  the  piece.  The 
result  was  that  he  disfigured  what  he  did  not  understand. 
The  grossness  which  lay  upon  the  surface  he  caught 


i82 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


and  reproduced.  Of  the  deeper  elements  that  go  to 
make  up  one  of  the  most  marked  characters  in  the 
whole  range  of  creative  fiction  he  had  not  the  slightest 
conception.  The  Wife  of  Bath  in  his  hands  is  simply 
a quick-witted,  vulgar  woman,  who  her  whole  life  long 
has  given  full  way  to  the  indulgence  of  her  passions, 
and  cared  for  little  else.  The  purely  sensual  side  of 
her  nature  is  all  that  is  shown  in  the  modernization. 
The  poetical  element  is  gone  entirely.  Nothing  is  seen 
of  the  half-sad  and  yet  reckless  abandon  with  which 
she  reconciles  herself  to  the  approach  of  that  future 
of  joylessness  which  she  recognizes  that  the  inevitable 
hours  are  bringing ; nothing  of  the  exultation  with 
which  she  comforts  herself  with  the  thought  that,  come 
what  will,  she  has  had  her  day ; nothing  of  the  attitude 
of  mind  of  one  who  mourns  her  lost  youth,  not  because 
years  have  brought  sorrow  for  the  sins  she  has  com- 
mitted, but  because  the  power  of  committing  sin  has 
passed  away  forever.  No  smoothness  of  versification, 
no  prettiness  of  style,  not  even  vigor  of  expression,  could 
compensate  in  the  slightest  for  the  failure  to  realize  and 
reproduce  a character  which  is  not  that  of  an  individual, 
but  is  a type.  It  can  only  be  said  of  Pope  that  he  did 
not  comprehend  it,  and  that  it  would  not  have  lain  in 
his  power  to  recreate  it,  even  had  he  comprehended. 

One  other  work  of  Pope  is  due  to  Chaucer.  This  is 
the  ‘ Temple  of  Fame,’  which  appeared  in  1715.  In  an 
advertisement  prefixed  to  the  original  edition,  he  said 
that  the  hint  of  the  piece  was  taken  from  the  ‘ House 
of  Fame;’  and  that  while  the  design  was  in  a manner 
altered,  and  the  descriptions  and  particular  thoughts 


MODERNIZATIONS  OF  POPE  183 

his  own,  yet  he  could  not  suffer  the  work  to  be  printed 
without  this  acknowledgment ; and  that  the  reader  who 
wished  to  compare  his  poem  with  Chaucer  should  begin 
with  the  third  book  of  the  corresponding  production  of 
the  latter.  The  advertisement  is  a singular  one.  It 
would  be  almost  sufficient  evidence  of  itself  to  prove 
that  Chaucer  was  little  read  at  that  period.  For  it  was 
a good  deal  more  than  a hint  that  was  taken  from  the 
early  poem.  To  it  the  ‘Temple  of  Fame’  owed  its  plan 
and  its  whole  action,  besides  most  of  the  circumstances 
narrated.  Long  passages  were  modernized  as  closely 
as  in  the  case  of  the  pieces  which  he  professedly  trans- 
lated. Some  of  them  are  taken  from  the  second  book 
of  Chaucer’s  work,  and  not  from  the  third.  True  it  is 
that  great  variations  exist,  that  new  details  are  intro- 
duced, and  old  ones  omitted  ; but  most  of  the  modern 
poem  could  not  have  had  an  existence  without  the  pre- 
vious existence  of  the  earlier.  Acquaintance  with 
Chaucer’s  writings,  which  was  steadily,  though  slowly, 
increasing  on  the  part  of  the  educated  public,  seems  to 
have  led  Pope  in  1736  to  subjoin  the  prominent  par- 
allel passages,  or  to  indicate  precisely  where  they  were 
to  be  found.  He  was  apparently  under  the  impression 
that  this  show  of  quotation  would  cause  the  delusive 
word  ‘ hint  ’ to  be  taken  in  another  sense  from  that 
which  it  really  means,  and  in  which  it  was  originally 
employed.  At  any  rate,  it  has  had  this  effect,  whether 
intended  or  not,  as  any  one  can  discover  by  reading 
the  remarks  of  his  editors. 

This  imitation,  if  we  do  not  choose  to  call  it  a mod- 
ernization, had  a singular  fate  for  Pope’s  productions. 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


though  not  perhaps  a very  unusual  one  for  those  of 
some  authors.  It  was  very  generally  approved  and 
very  little  read.  That  it  was  greatly  superior  to  the 
‘ House  of  Fame’  was  assumed  as  a self-evident  propo- 
sition by  the  men  of  the  eighteenth  century.  “ The 
original  vision  of  Chaucer,”  wrote  Dr.  Johnson,  “was 
never  denied  to  be  much  improved.”  He  admitted, 
however,  that  the  modern  work  was  turned  silently 
over,  and  seldom  quoted  or  mentioned  with  either  praise 
or  blame.  There  are  not  too  many  at  the  present  day 
who  are  familiar  with  the  ‘ House  of  Fame.’  In  the 
last  century  there  were  almost  none.  This  may  be 
thought  to  detract  somewhat  from  the  value  of  the 
universal  judgment  which,  according  to  Johnson,  de- 
clared the  imitation  an  improvement  upon  the  original. 
The  recognition  in  a particular  age  of  the  superiority 
of  a poem  which  few  read  over  one  which  nobody  reads 
at  all  can  hardly  be  expected  to  weigh  heavily  in  the 
opinion  of  the  ages  that  follow,  never  inclined  to  be 
particularly  deferential  to  the  criticism  of  their  prede- 
cessors, even  when  it  is  based  upon  the  fullest  knowl- 
edge. No  one  at  this  day,  who  has  carefully  studied 
both  pieces,  would  think  for  a moment  of  placing  the 
modern  work  on  a level  with  the  ancient.  Let  us,  how- 
ever, be  just  in  giving  what  testimony  we  can  to  the 
survival  of  this  antiquated  opinion.  The  poet  Camp- 
bell looked  upon  the  ‘Temple  of  Fame’  as  superior 
to  the  ‘House  of  Fame.’^  In  controverting  Warton’s 
estimate  of  the  two,  he  adduced  several  sage  reasons 

^ Specimens  of  the  British  Poets,  by  Thomas  Campbell  (London,  1819), 
vol.  ii,,  p.  18. 


LATER  MODERNIZATION'S  1 85 

for  his  belief.  He  found  absurd  and  fantastic  matter 
in  Chaucer’s  work,  much  of  which  had  been  judiciously 
omitted  by  his  imitator.  The  philosophy  of  fame,  he 
assures  us,  comes  with  much  more  propriety  from  the 
poet  himself  than  from  the  beak  of  a talkative  eagle. 
In  Campbell’s  words  the  expiring  note  of  eighteenth- 
century  criticism  finds  its  final  utterance. 

Pope’s  versions  had,  in  one  respect,  differed  mate- 
rially from  Dryden’s.  Instead  of  expanding,  he  con- 
tracted. He  threw  out  what,  for  any  reason,  failed  to 
suit  his  taste  or  design,  and  his  omissions  were  both 
numerous  and  important.  A comparison  of  the  length 
of  the  pieces  makes  this  point  very  clear.  The  Mer- 
chant’s tale  in  Chaucer  consists  of  eleven  hundred  and 
seventy-two  lines ; in  Pope  it  consists  of  eight  hundred 
and  twenty.  The  omissions  in  the  prologue  to  the  Wife 
of  Bath’s  tale  are  still  greater.  In  the  original,  the 
piece  consists  of  eight  hundred  and  fifty-six  lines  ; in 
the  modernization,  of  four  hundred  and  thirty-nine.  A 
small  portion  of  it,  in  the  form  of  dialogue,  is  perhaps 
necessarily  discarded,  and  ought  not  to  be  counted  in 
the  comparison.  These  two  methods  of  treating  Chau- 
cer had  each  their  followers  among  the  men  who  con- 
tinued the  work  on  these  modernizations.  Two  or  three 
of  them  were  as  faithful  to  the  original  as  they  knew 
how  to  be.  The  rest  expanded  or  contracted  at  will. 
One  side  could  plead  in  favor  of  its  course  the  author- 
ity of  Dryden ; the  other  that  of  Pope. 

With  the  work  of  these  two  great  authors  end  the 
modernizations  that  have  had  any  influence  in  spread- 
ing, even  in  a doubtful  way,  the  reputation  of  Chaucer. 


1 86  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

Now  begins  a series  of  versions  which  few  probably 
read  at  any  period,  and  which  men  of  the  present  day 
are  so  far  from  reading  that  it  is  rarely  that  they  know 
of  their  existence.  A brief  account  of  these  dreary  at- 
tempts, and  of  the  time  in  which  and  the  circumstances 
under  which  they  appeared,  will  be  sufficient  to  satiate 
the  curiosity  of  the  most  exacting  student  of  the  poet. 
Let  us  continue  with  the  ‘ Canterbury  Tales.’  The  next 
after  Pope  to  attack  any  part  of  this  work  was  the  cele- 
brated actor  Betterton.  He  had  died  in  1710,  but  had 
left  behind  him  a version  of  the  Reeve’s  tale,  and  of  most 
of  the  general  Prologue.  These  were  first  published  in 
the  miscellany  which  Lintot  brought  out  in  1712.  Nei- 
ther the  opening  nor  the  conclusion  of  the  Prologue 
was  translated.  Nor  were  the  descriptions  of  all  the 
characters  it  contained  modernized.  The  Parson’s  Bet- 
terton would  naturally  leave  untouched,  out  of  respect 
for  Dryden,  or  out  of  dread  of  comparison.  But  he 
also  neglected  to  include  the  characters  of  the  Clerk 
of  Oxford,  of  the  Cook,  and  of  the  members  of  the 
guilds.  The  authorship  of  these  versions,  it  may  be  said 
in  passing,  has  sometimes  been  attributed  to  Pope, 
who  was  pretty  certainly  the  editor  of  the  miscellany 
in  which  they  appeared.  Fenton  communicated  some 
circumstances  to  Harte  which  convinced  Harte  that 
this  was  the  case,  and  Harte  communicated  his  convic- 
tion to  Joseph  Warton,  who  duly  communicated  it  to 
the  public  in  his  edition  of  Pope.^  It  had  previously, 
however,  been  noted  by  Dr.  Johnson,  though  apparently 
not  much  weight  was  given  by  him  to  the  view.  There  is 


* Vol  ii.,  p.  166. 


MODERNIZATIONS  OF  BETTERTON  1 8/ 

certainly  no  good  ground  for  this  opinion  in  the  execution 
of  the  pieces.  That  Pope  may  to  some  extent  have  re- 
vised the  lines  is  not  impossible  ; but  their  character 
precludes  the  idea  that  genius  of  any  sort  had  anything 
to  do  with  their  composition. 

Betterton’s  contribution  to  the  modernization  of 
Chaucer  was  not  large.  It  is,  however,  large  enough  to 
make  us  aware  that  poetry  suffered  no  loss  by  his  hav- 
ing made  acting  a profession  and  not  literature.  But 
the  names  of  the  men  who  afterwards  interested  them- 
selves in  the  production  of  these  versions  are  in  some 
cases  little  known  to  fame  in  any  department  of  human 
endeavor.  It  is  not  always  an  easy  matter,  accordingly, 
to  discover  with  certainty  precisely  who  they  were.  The 
interest  that  belongs  to  several  of  them  is  connected 
with  bibliography  rather  than  with  biography  or  literary 
history.  As  regards  the  character  of  the  work  they  did, 
its  merits  can  be  summed  up  in  a few  words.  The  ques- 
tion with  all  these  versions  is  not  whose  is  the  best,  but 
whose  is  the  least  bad.  The  men  who  composed  them 
frequently  failed  to  understand  the  author  whom  they  set 
out  to  make  the  rest  of  the  world  understand.  Still,  their 
supreme  failure  consisted  in  what  they  wrote  after  they 
did  understand.  There  was  also  great  omission  of  per- 
tinent and  great  additio>n  of  impertinent  details.  But 
even  if  the  sense  were  perfectly  preserved,  what  was  in- 
variably lost  in  the  transfusion  was  the  poetry.  To  em- 
ploy a word  often  used  in  those  days,  Chaucer  was  not 
so  much  translated  as  he  was  transmogrified.  A cer- 
tain number,  beginning  with  Betterton,  followed  Pope 
in  omitting  in  their  versions  part  of  the  original.  A 


i88 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


plausible  defence  can  be  set  up  for  this  course,  and  un- 
der the  circumstances  it  will  by  some  be  reckoned  to 
their  credit.  It  was  the  next  best  thing  to  not  doing 
the  work  at  all. 

In  the  same  year  in  which  Betterton’s  posthumous 
work  was  published  appeared  a modernization  of  the 
Miller’s  tale  under  the  title  of  the  ‘ Carpenter  of  Oxford.’ 
It  was  the  work  of  Samuel  Cobb,  one  of  the  instructors 
in  Christ’s  Hospital,  London,  and  was  dedicated  to  the 
dramatist  Rowe.  It  adhered  far  more  closely  to  its 
original  than  most  of  these  versions.  In  fact,  there  is 
but  little  difference  in  the  number  of  lines  belonging  to 
each.  That  is  its  principal  merit.  But  the  little  volume 
in  which  it  was  contained  has  an  interest  of  another  sort 
quite  independent  of  anything  connected  with  what  was 
furnished  by  Cobb.  Appended  to  it  were  the  two  brief 
imitations  of  Chaucer  by  Prior,  to  which  reference  has 
already  been  made.  They  exhibit  in  a striking  way  the 
knowledge,  or  rather  the  lack  of  knowledge,  of  the  period 
about  the  early  poet.  Prior  was  not  content  with  merely 
making  an  effort  to  reproduce  the  language  of  a time  he 
did  not  understand  and  the  vein  of  an  author  whom  he 
had  not  studied  sufficiently  to  appreciate.  He  aimed  to 
show  his  dexterity  in  a double  way.  Of  one  of  his  own 
imitations  — that  entitled  ‘Susannah  and  the  Two  El- 
ders ’ — he  added  a version  “ attempted,”  as  he  expressed 
it,  “ in  the  modern  style.”  To  write  a loose  poem  which 
was  a spurious  reproduction  of  the  past  was  bad  enough  ; 
but  it  argued  a singular  lack  of  judgment  to  deprive  it 
of  its  incomprehensibility,  the  only  value  it  had,  by  set- 
ting it  in  later  and  better  ryme.  Literary  history  can 


OGLE'S  SCHEME  OF  MODERNIZATION  189 

afford  no  better  specimen  of  an  imitation  in  paste  of 
pinchbeck  jewelry. 

For  many  years  after  this  nothing  further  was  accom- 
plished in  the  modernization  of  Chaucer’s  greatest  work. 
Dr.  Morell’s  edition  of  the  poet,  so  far  as  it  was  pub- 
lished, included  only  the  Prologue  and  the  Knight’s 
tale.  To  these  he  appended  the  versions  of  Dryden  and 
Betterton.  The  parts  of  the  Prologue  which  the  latter 
had  left  untranslated  were  now  modernized,  so  as  to 
make  the  piece  complete.  The  volume  appeared  first 
in  1737.  It  was  not  until  four  years  later  that  a move- 
ment to  put  into  modern  English  the  whole  of  the  ‘Can- 
terbury Tales’  was  in  part  accomplished.  It  was  the 
work  of  George  Ogle.  In  1739  he  brought  out  aversion 
of  the  Clerk  of  Oxford’s  tale.  To  it  he  prefixed  a preface 
in  the  shape  of  a letter  to  a friend,  in  which  he  explained 
his  design.  In  it  he  also  gave  a version  of  the  por- 
tions of  the  general  Prologue  which  had  been  omitted 
by  Betterton.  Ogle  was  an  ardent  admirer  of  Chaucer 
and  an  ardent  believer  in  modernization  — two  things 
which  in  these  later  days  strike  men  as  essentially  in- 
compatible. It  was,  he  fancied,  only  by  this  method  of 
translation  that  the  greatness  of  the  early  poet  could  be 
fully  made  known  and  become  generally  recognized.  “ I 
hold  Mr.  Dryden,”  he  wrote,  “ to  have  been  the  first  who 
put  the  merit  of  Chaucer  into  its  full  and  true  light  by 
turning  some  of  the  Canterbury  Tales  into  our  language, 
as  it  is  now  refined,  or  rather  as  he  himself  refined  it.” 
To  one  taking  this  ground  modernization  was  necessarily 
a process  that  ought  to  be  continued.  The  whole  of  the 
early  poet’s  greatest  work  should  at  all  events  be  made 


190  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

accessible  to  those  who  cared  to  read.  It  is  rather  a 
matter  of  inference  than  of  direct  evidence  that  Ogle  set 
about  making  a complete  version  of  the  ‘ Canterbury 
Tales’  into  the  English  of  the  time.  It  is  certain  that  he 
did  enough  towards  it  to  render  that  intention  highly 
probable.  He  adopted,  without  any  regard  to  their 
comparative  merits,  all  work  in  the  shape  of  moderniza- 
tion which  had  already  been  done  by  Dryden,  Pope, 
Betterton,  and  Cobb.  He  naturally  also  included  his 
own  version  of  the  Clerk  of  Oxford’s  tale,  and  of  por- 
tions of  the  general  Prologue.  With  these  as  a start- 
ing-point, he  seems  to  have  felt  himself  in  a position  to 
attempt  the  conquest  of  the  whole  work. 

He  called  in  the  aid  of  others,  and  with  their  help 
three  volumes  of  ‘The  Canterbury  Tales  of  Chaucer 
modernized  by  several  hands’  were  published  by  Ton- 
son  in  1741.  Besides  the  versions  which  have  been 
already  described,  the  following  new  ones  were  con- 
tributed to  this  undertaking.  The  spurious  tale  of 
Gamelin,  which  Urry’s  edition  had  first  contained,  was 
modernized  by  Samuel  Boyse  ; so,  also,  was  the  Squire’s 
tale.  The  Man  of  Law’s  tale  was  modernized  by  Henry 
Brooke,  the  Friar’s  tale  by  Jeremiah  Markland,  and  the 
Summoner’s  tale  by  a Mr.  Grosvenor.  Ogle  himself 
versified  all  the  links  between  the  eleven  tales  which 
were  comprised  in  this  edition.  This  included  the  un- 
finished fragment  of  the  Cook’s  tale.  He  did  not,  in- 
deed, confine  himself  to  Chaucer.  In  order,  apparently, 
to  be  spared  the  reproach  of  incompleteness  in  any  par- 
ticular, he  added  to  Boyse’s  translation  of  the  original  a 
modernized  version  of  the  conclusion  of  the  Squire’s  tale 


TWO  CLASSES  OF  MODERNIZATIONS  I9I 

which  Spenser  had  embodied  in  the  fourth  book  of  the 
‘ Fairy  Queen.’  The  list  here  given  embraces  all  the 
pieces  that  appear  in  the  three  volumes  published  in 
1741.  It  is  almost  certain,  however,  that  the  deviser  of 
the  scheme  did  not  purpose  to  stop  at  this  point — that 
he  had  it  in  mind  to  go  on  and  bring  out  a complete  ver- 
sion of  the  ‘ Canterbury  Tales.’  So  far  as  he  went.  Ogle 
followed  precisely  the  order  of  the  poems  in  the  folio 
editions  of  Chaucer.  As  in  them  the  tale  of  the  Nun’s 
Priest  had  not  been  reached  when  the  first  instalment 
was  ready,  Dryden’s  version  of  it  accordingly  did  not  ap- 
pear in  the  volumes  that  were  published.  It  was  doubt- 
less reserved  for  its  proper  place  in  the  volumes  that 
were  to  follow. 

The  modernizations  of  Chaucer  in  this  edition  divide 
themselves  into  two  classes,  which  may  be  characterized 
as  representing  the  school  of  Dryden  and  the  school  of 
Pope.  To  the  latter  belong  the  versions  of  Betterton 
and  Grosvenor.  To  them  may  be  added  those  of  Cobb 
and  Markland.  But  these  last  two  were  scholars,  and 
the  habits  of  the  scholar  clung  to  them.  It  was  not  in 
their  nature  to  venture  upon  liberties  with  the  text 
which  mere  men  of  letters  had  no  hesitation  in  taking. 
They  consequently  adhered  pretty  closely  to  the  origi- 
nal. They  made  faithful  transcripts  of  the  story,  and 
kept  as  near  to  its  spirit  as  could  be  done  by  men  who 
had  little  real  appreciation  of  Chaucer,  and  apparently 
very  little  of  poetry.  The  other  two,  Betterton  and 
Grosvenor,  had  abridged  their  material  after  the  fashion 
set  by  Pope.  This  is  only  partially  the  case  with  the 
former,  but  it  is  to  a marked  degree  true  of  the  latter. 


192  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

H is  Summoner’s  tale  does  not  amount  to  more  than 
one  third  of  that  piece  as  it  is  contained  in  Chaucer.  It 
has,  indeed,  strictly  no  right  to  be  called  a moderniza- 
tion. Nor  was  it  designed  as  such  originally.  It  was 
borrowed  by  Ogle,  not  written  expressly  for  his  work  as 
were  most  of  the  new  versions.  It  first  appeared  in  print 
in  1733,  under  the  title  of  ‘ The  Whimsical  Legacy,’  as  a 
contribution  to  Eustace  Budgell’s  periodical  entitled 
^The  Bee,  or  Universal  Weekly  Pamphlet.’^  In  that  the 
writer  is  not  only  particular  to  term  it  an  imitation,  but 
he  went  on  to  add  that  “ it  cannot  properly  be  called  a 
translation.” 

Omission  or  contraction,  as  has  been  intimated,  was 
the  general  rule  with  these  men  when  they  did  not  keep 
close  to  the  original.  Outside  of  this  they  did  their  work 
honestly.  If  the  result  was  commonplace  and  tedious, 
it  was  because  the  ability  had  been  denied  them  to  make 
it  otherwise.  They  have  the  one  merit  of  not  pretend- 
ing to  be  more  than  they  were.  They  introduced  oc- 
casionally references  which  Chaucer  could  not  have 
made  because  they  were  to  events  and  practices  that 
were  unknown  in  his  time.  But  for  anachronisms  like 
these  they  could  shelter  themselves  under  the  authority 
of  Dryden.  On  the  other  hand,  the  versions  of  Boyse, 
Brooke,  and  Ogle  were  of  an  ambitious  character.  Ex- 
pansion was  the  rule.  Additions,  to  which  Dryden  had 
unhappily  given  the  name  of  improvements,  are  the 
most  characteristic  marks  of  their  work.  All  of  them 
were  gifted  with  an  unusual  ability  for  making  a short 
story  long,  and  an  interesting  one  tedious.  Two  of  these 


^ No.  xxiii.,  vol.  ii.,  p.  1020. 


MODERNIZATIONS  OF  BOYSE  AND  BROOKE  I93 

poets  still  have  remembrance  of  a vague  kind  among 
men.  Boyse  is  one  of  the  most  notorious  representa- 
tives of  that  literary  proletariat  of  the  last  century  whose 
members  led  generally  a life  of  vagabondage  and  penury, 
diversified  by  occasional  indulgences  in  degrading  and 
cheap  excesses,  and  who  threatened  at  one  time  to  de- 
velop into  an  organized  band  of  scribbling  Switzers, 
ready  to  sell  their  services  to  promote  or  assail  any  cause 
and  to  uphold  or  stab  any  reputation.  He  now  owes  the 
fact  that  he  is  remembered  at  all  mainly  to  the  praise 
which  was  bestowed  upon  one  of  his  poems  by  Fielding 
in  his  great  novel.  Henry  Brooke  is  a more  distin- 
guished character  in  every  way.  He  held  in  his  own 
time  no  insignificant  literary  position.  Though  his 
plays  and  poems  have  now  almost  passed  from  memory, 
his  ‘ Fool  of  Quality'  continues  yet  to  be  printed  pretty 
frequently  and  to  be  read  occasionally. 

Between  these  three — Boyse,  Brooke,  and  Ogle — there 
was  seemingly  a contest  as  to  who  should  receive  the  palm 
for  wordiness.  A certain  defence  can  be  made  for  the 
one  first  named.  In  the  account  of  him  given  in  Cibber’s 
‘ Lives  of  the  Poets  ’ ^ he  is  said  to  have  received  three- 
pence for  every  line  he  wrote  of  these  versions.  As  he 
was  always  in  needy  and  usually  in  necessitous  circum- 
stances, he  had  accordingly  every  pecuniary  if  not  per- 
sonal inducement  to  go  on  diluting  his  original  to  the 
utmost  limit  of  wishi-washiness.  The  opportunity  he 
certainly  did  not  fail  to  improve.  In  the  case  of  the 
Squire’s  tale — the  only  genuine  poem  of  Chaucer  he 
modernized — the  six  hundred  and  sixty-two  lines  of  the 

* Vol.  V.,  p.  174. 

III.— 13 


194 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


original  are  represented  in  his  version  by  fourteen  hun- 
dred and  sixty.  But  comparison  of  numbers  gives  little 
conception  of  his  unfaithfulness  to  his  author  or  of  the 
riot  of  language  in  which  he  indulged.  The  incidents  of 
the  story  merely  furnished  him  a pretext  for  discoursing 
upon  anything  and  everything  it  entered  into  his  head 
to  say ; for  introducing  new  sentiments,  new  facts,  and 
new  characters ; or  for  indulging  in  those  sage  moral  re- 
flections to  which  men  of  loose  lives  and  reckless  con- 
duct are  addicted,  as  if  to  make  up  for  the  viciousness  of 
their  behavior  by  the  exemplariness  of  their  views.  All 
this  might  be  pardoned  on  the  ground  that  need  knows 
no  law,  were  it  not  for  the  fact  that  Boyse  was  proud  of 
his  work.  It  is  manifest  that  in  his  own  opinion  he  had 
quite  outdone  his  original.  Pie  was  unwilling  to  wait 
for  the  edition  containing  his  version  to  appear.  In  Au- 
gust, 1740,  he  furnished  to  the  ‘ Gentleman’s  Magazine’ 
a specimen  in  advance  of  one  of  his  additions,  or,  as  he 
termed  them,  improvements.  This  consisted  of  the  char- 
acter and  speech  of  Cosroes  the  Mede.  Chaucer  fort- 
unately is  not  responsible  for  the  creation  of  this  person- 
age, nor  for  anything  he  is  reported  to  have  said. 

Boyse,  however,  was  by  no  means  singular  in  the  ex- 
tent to  which  he  enriched  the  original  with  a prodigality 
of  verbiage.  The  projector  of  the  scheme  had,  in  fact, 
set  him  the  example.  Ogle’s  version  of  the  Clerk  of  Ox- 
ford’s tale  extended  to  two  thousand  four  hundred  and 
twenty-six  lines ; Chaucer  had  been  enabled  to  write  it 
in  eleven  hundred  and  fifty-six.  Even  this  record  was 
surpassed  by  Brooke.  His  version  of  the  Man  of  Law’s 
tale  is  in  parts  a peculiarly  impudent  performance  among 


CHARACTER  OF  THE  MODERNIZATIONS  I95 

performances  all  of  which  are  impudent.  The  thirty- 
five  lines  descriptive  of  the  ills  of  poverty  with  which  it 
opens  are  represented  in  his  so-called  modernization  by 
one' hundred  and  sixty-eight.  Of  these  it  is  safe  to  say 
that  not  one  has  anything  but  the  remotest  resemblance 
to  what  can  be  found  in  the  original.  The  tale  itself  is 
proportionally  not  so  bad.  Its  ten  hundred  and  sixty- 
four  lines  are  represented  by  sixteen  hundred  and  forty- 
four.  All  these  poems,  it  is  to  be  added,  were  with  one 
exception  turned  into  heroic  couplets,  no  matter  in  what 
measure  originally  composed.  The  seven-line  stanza,  a 
favorite  one  with  Chaucer,  was  studiously  avoided.  The 
example  had  been  set  in  the  first  place  by  Dryden  in  his 
modernization  of  ‘The  Flower  and  the  Leaf.’  It  was 
faithfully  followed,  as  was  almost  inevitable  at  a period 
when  the  rymed  couplet  had  become  the  general  favor- 
ite. The  universality  of  its  adoption  makes  exceedingly 
striking  the  one  exception  that  can  be  found.  The 
Squire’s  tale  had  been  written  by  Chaucer  in  heroic 
verse.  Boyse,  who  seems  to  have  been  animated  by  the 
desire  to  have  his  modernization  as  little  like  the  orig- 
inal as  possible,  substituted  for  this  measure  a ten-line 
stanza. 

Of  the  literary  character  of  these  versions  some  idea 
may  be  gathered  from  what  has  already  been  said.  All 
of  them,  whether  expansions  or  contractions  of  the  orig- 
inal, subject  themselves  to  one  general  criticism.  The 
pieces  may  be  of  varying  length,  but  they  are  of  uni- 
form dulness.  The  dulness  is  of  different  kinds,  to  be 
sure,  but  it  never  fails  to  be  the  predominant  character- 
istic. From  this  judgment  attempts  have  sometimes 


196  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

been  made  to  exempt  the  modernizations  of  Boyse  and 
Brooke,  especially  those  of  the  former.  One  not  familiar 
with  eighteenth-century  poetry  will  be  struck  at' first  by 
a certain  smoothness  and  glitter  in  the  lines,  and  occa- 
sionally by  a certain  gorgeousness  of  diction.  He  may, 
in  consequence,  get  the  impression  that  these  moderniza- 
tions have  not  received  the  full  credit  to  which  they  are 
entitled  ; that  while  they  may  not  adequately  represent 
Chaucer,  they  do  exhibit  poetical  power  of  no  inferior 
grade.  But  the  artificial  structure  of  the  versification,  the 
false  splendor  of  the  language,  cease  to  impose  upon  the 
understanding  as  soon  as  they  are  found  to  be  not  even 
feats  of  ability,  but  to  be  mere  tricks  of  art  of  which  the 
poetaster  of  the  time  succeeded  sometimes  in  getting  the 
mastery  as  well  as  the  poet.  One  general  criticism  can 
be  passed  on  these  versions.  They  undertook,  in  the 
first  place,  to  do  something  that  was  not  in  itself  desira- 
ble to  do.  Having  undertaken  it,  they  proceeded  to  do 
what  they  undertook  in  the  most  undesirable  way.  Wit 
and  humor  were  crushed  by  the  mass  of  irrelevant  ver- 
biage under  which  the  sense  was  loaded  down.  Pathos 
naturally  vanished  from  sight.  Its  very  life  consists  in 
simplicity  of  language ; and  in  place  of  simple  language 
we  had  here  a succession  of  orotund  phrases.  For  pa- 
thos, consequently,  was  substituted  a weak  emotion  which 
spent  itself  in  rambling  and  loquacious  speech.  These 
ambitious  versions  were,  indeed,*  marked  by  two  quali- 
ties which,  though  apparently  opposite,  are  often  found 
in  conjunction.  They  were  stilted  and  they  were  mean. 
I have  said  that  by  Dryden  the  gold  of  Chaucer  had 
been  turned  into  silver.  The  laborious  alchemy  of  the 


MODERNIZATIONS  OF  LIPSCOMB  I97 

eighteenth  century  went  still  farther  and  turned  it  into 
lead. 

This  elaborate  attempt  at  modernizing  the  ‘ Canter- 
bury Tales’  was  not  then  completed,  whatever  may  have 
been  the  original  intention.  Ogle  died  in  1746.  His 
project  very  likely  had  died  before  him.  The  publica- 
tion of  these  volumes  probably  did  little  harm  to  Chau- 
cer’s fame.  Few  read  them;  still  fewer  found  them  worth 
reading.  Let  us  give,  in  consequence,  the  credit  we  can 
to  the  eighteenth  century.  For  many  years  the  reputa- 
tion of  the  poet  rested  secure  from  these  assaults,  which, 
however  friendly  in  spirit,  were  injurious  in  their  influ- 
ence, so  far  as  they  exerted  any  influence  at  all.  In  the 
meanwhile,  knowledge  of  Chaucer  had  been  making  head- 
way. By  more  and  more  the  discovery  continued  to  be 
made  that  it  was  not  a dififlcult  matter  to  read  his  lines 
as  he  composed  them  himself.  Yet  the  feeling  that  had 
inspired  these  previous  attempts  had  by  no  means  died 
out.  It  was  still  a belief  on  the  part  of  a large  number 
that  the  language  in  which  he  wrote  was  a dead  lan- 
guage, or,  as  it  now  sometimes  began  to  be  put  more 
mildly,  a decaying  language.  To  revive  him  by  a mod- 
ernized version  was  looked  upon  by  many  as  being  in 
the  nature  of  a sacred  duty.  Accordingly,  late  in  the 
century  a man  came  forward  to  take  up  and  complete 
the  unfinished  work  of  Ogle.  This  was  the  Rev.  Will- 
iam Lipscomb.  It  was  in  1792,  while  he  was  rector  of 
Westbury  in  Yorkshire,  that  he  brought  out  a version  of 
the  Pardoner’s  tale.  It  was  the  preliminary  achieve- 
ment of  the  task  he  had  set  before  himself.  The  rest 
followed  in  due  time.  In  1795  three  volumes  were  pub- 


198  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

lished  which  contained,  with  two  exceptions,  the  pieces 
that  had  appeared  in  the  edition  of  1741,  and  the  eleven 
additional  tales  of  the  original  that  were  in  verse.  All 
the  poetry  of  Chaucer’s  principal  work  had  now  been 
turned  into  English,  easy  to  understand  if  not  easy  to 
read.  The  modernization  of  these  additional  tales  and 
of  the  links  between  them  was  done  by  Mr.  Lipscomb 
alone.  He  also  gave  a version  in  current  prose  of  the 
tale  of  Melibeus,  but  did  not  include  the  Parson’s  tale 
on  account,  as  he  tells  us,  of  its  tediousness.  This  shows 
that  he  recognized  abstractly  the  existence  of  such  a 
quality,  though  he  was  quite  unconscious  of  the  signal 
example  of  it  that  was  closest  at  hand.  He  threw  out, 
moreover,  the  Miller’s  and  the  Reeve’s  tale  because  of 
their  indelicacy.  The  retention  of  certain  others  he  jus- 
tified on  the  ground  that  the  indecorous  passages  in  them 
were  comparatively  few ; and  even  these  barriers  to  their 
general  reception  he  humbly  hoped  had  been  wholly  re- 
moved. This  was  true  enough  of  his  own  versions ; but 
he  printed  those  of  Pope  without  variation. 

Like  his  predecessors,  Lipscomb  was  animated  by  a 
noble  desire  to  spread  the  knowledge  of  Chaucer  among 
the  men  of  a generation  that  knew  him  not.  That  this 
was  the  way  to  go  about  it  he  did  not  think  to  question. 
His  attempting  it  at  all  proves  his  confidence  in  his  own 
fitness  for  the  task.  He  was  a poet  of  the  kind  the  eigh- 
teenth century  spawned  in  profusion.  He  had  obtained 
in  1772  one  of  the  chancellor’s  prizes  at  the  University 
of  Oxford  for  verses  written  on  the  beneficial  influence 
of  inoculation  for  small-pox.  A success  of  this  sort  nat- 
urally leads  to  no  exalted  anticipation  of  what  he  would 


MODERNIZATIONS  OF  LIPSCOMB 


199 


accomplish  when  dealing  with  the  works  of  a man  of 
genius  like  Chaucer.  Yet  anticipation,  however  lowly, 
will  be  exceeded  by  the  humility  of  the  performance. 
One  is  not  surprised  to  find  his  versions  dull ; he  is  sur- 
prised to  find  them  so  very  dull.  Yet  about  his  mod- 
ernization as  a whole  there  is  a mechanical  uniformity, 
a decency  of  mediocrity,  which  makes  it  almost  as  diffi- 
cult to  say  anything  harsh  about  it  as  to  say  anything 
in  its  favor.  We  can  see  how  Boyse,  Brooke,  and  the 
men  of  their  time  might  have  fancied  that  their  versions 
were  fine  productions.  It  is  hard  to  conceive  how  any 
emotion  of  any  sort  could  have  been  raised  by  the  dead 
level  of  Lipscomb’s  achievement.  He  himself  was  as 
delightfully  ignorant  of  the  literature  one  would  have 
supposed  him  to  be  specially  familiar  with  as  with  the 
literature  he  , professed  to  know.  It  has  already  been 
mentioned  that  Dryden’s  version  of  the  Nun’s  Priest’s 
tale  was  not  included  in  Ogle’s  edition.  Lipscomb  did 
not  make  the  discovery  that  such  a version  existed  at  all 
until  after  he  had  produced  his  own.  This  fact  he  an- 
nounced in  an  apologetic  note.  It  made  little  or  no  dif- 
ference; for  readers  he  had  none,  save  those  whose  busi- 
ness it  was  to  review  the  work.  These,  it  is  fair  to  say, 
bestowed  a good  deal  of  commendation  upon  it.  Ac- 
cording to  them,  a complete  modernization  of  the  ‘ Can- 
terbury Tales’  was  something  for  which  the  world  had 
long  been  waiting  with  eagerness.  Its  author  was  con- 
gratulated on  having  accomplished  so  satisfactorily  what 
had  been  so  earnestly  desired.  These  were  the  opinions 
of  the  professional  critics.  The  public,  much  wiser  than 
they,  never  cared  for  this  version  in  the  slightest.  It 


200 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


was  not  a work  that  needed  to  be  suppressed  in  the  in- 
terest of  the  poet ; it  suppressed  itself. 

These  were  the  successive  steps  by  which  the  ^ Can- 
terbury Tales’  were  turned  into  what  was  called  the  re- 
fined and  classical  language  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
It  was  not,  however,  the  only  work  of  Chaucer  that  was 
subjected  to  this  polishing  process.  The  ‘ House  of 
Fame’  has  already  been  mentioned  as  having  been  con- 
verted by  Pope  into  the  ‘ Temple  of  Fame.’  The  change 
of  title  largely  indicates  the  change  of  diction.  It  was, 
however,  the  works  that  are  now  generally  conceded  to 
be  spurious  that  were  the  favorites  for  these  specious  at- 
tempts. The  practice  began  with  Dryden’s  version  of 
‘ The  Flower  and  the  Leaf.’  The  ‘ Complaint  of  the 
Black  Knight’  was  modernized  in  1718  by  the  antiquary 
John  Dart,  and  the  ‘Court  of  Love’  by  Alexander  Stop- 
ford  Catcott,  who  attained  more  prominence  as  a divine 
than  as  a poet,  but  not  much  prominence  in  either  ca- 
pacity. His  version  was  published  at  Oxford  in  1717. 
The  seven-line  stanza  was,  according  to  the  usual  custom, 
turned  by  him  into  the  heroic  couplet.  The  original 
was  also  cut  down  more  than  one  half.  But  scattered 
along  during  the  eighteenth  century,  specimens  of  mod- 
ernization, usually  on  a limited  scale,  turn  up  with  a fair 
degree  of  regularity.  Walter  Harte,  already  mentioned 
so  often,  put  into  the  English  of  his  time,  under  the 
heading  ‘To  my  Soul,’  the  short  piece  of  Chaucer  be- 
ginning ‘ Flee  from  the  press.’  The  character  of  the 
Parson  as  depicted  in  the  general  Prologue  to  the  ‘ Can- 
terbury Tales’  was  a favorite  object  of  assault.  It  was 
a theme  that  inspired  a number  of  so-called  poets  of  the 


DICTION  OF  THE  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY  201  ^ 

' period.  It  furnished  one  of  the  two  imitations  attempt- 
ed by  the  Rev.  William  Dunkin,  a bard  brought  into 
! some  notice  by  Chesterfield,  who  had  a gift  amounting 

. almost  to  genius  in  the  discovery  of  bad  writers.^  A 

paraphrase  of  this  same  passage  in  the  Prologue  can  be 
found  as  late  as  1800  in  the  ‘Gentleman’s  Magazine.’ 

; But  all  through  the  eighteenth  century  the  periodical 
■ literature  contains  many  poems  purporting  to  owe  their 
existence  to  Chaucer  either  in  the  way  of  imitation  or 
of  modernization.  His  name,  indeed,  was  not  unfre- 
: quently  assumed  when  one  wished  to  put  forth  some 

verses  for  which,  for  any  reason,  he  did  not  care  to  take 
the  personal  responsibility. 

! We  can  concede  that  the  intention  of  all  these  ver- 

1 sions  was  praiseworthy.  Still  the  effect  on  the  mind  of 
reading  them  can  hardly  be  termed  exhilarating.  Even 
had  it  been  desirable  to  modernize  Chaucer,  the  poetic 
s diction  of  the  eighteenth  century  was  the  one  least  fitted 
as  the  vehicle  of  transferrence.  We  need  not  make  it  an 
, object  of  undistinguishing  depreciation.  It  had  certain 
marked  merits  of  its  own.  It  had,  in  particular,  in  the 
hands  of  its  chief  masters  the  impressiveness  of  subtle 
reminiscence  of  the  great  classic  writers.  But  in  reading 
it  we  feel  that  we  are  wandering  in  a land  of  phrases.  We 
are  talking  a dialect  which  nobody  ever  spoke;  we  are 
using  words  that,  even  when  they  appeal  to  the  intellect, 
rarely  touch  the  heart.  The  curse  of  artificial  phraseol- 
: ogy  hangs  over  it  all.  Its  dwellings  are  bowers,  its  labor- 

ers are  swains,  its  women  are  nymphs.  From  this  all- 
. pervading  infection  of  fine  language  the  possession  of 

~ ' See  Dunkin’s  Poems  (London,  1774),  vol.  ii.,  p.  480. 


c 


202 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


genius  did  not  always  enable  the  poet  to  escape.  In- 
feriority of  execution  for  one  even  so  endowed  was  cer- 
tain if  he  chose  to  measure  himself  with  a writer  like 
Chaucer  on  his  own  ground.  It  was  impossible  to  sing 
the  Lord’s  songs  in  a strange  land.  But  something  worse 
than  inferiority  was  sure  to  befall  the  attempts  of  a man 
of  ordinary  ability  to  put  into  a diction  always  mounted 
upon  stilts  the  words  of  the  one  English  poet  who  is  clos- 
est to  nature,  who  always  said  directly  what  he  meant,  and 
who  could  not  fall  accidentally  into  a bit  of  fine  writing 
without  stopping  to  satirize  him.self  for  the  mischance. 
Any  modernization  of  Chaucer  in  the  poetic  dialect  of 
the  eighteenth  century  was  foredoomed  to  failure.  But 
its  inevitable  unfaithfulness  to  the  original,  if  men  hon- 
estly tried  to  reproduce  his  poetry  accurately,  was  ag- 
gravated in  many  cases  by  the  fact  that  they  did  not  try 
so  to  reproduce  it ; that  they  took  with  it  the  grossest 
liberties  and  added  or  omitted  incidents  or  ideas  at  their 
pleasure. 

The  prevalence  of  a practice  directly  opposite  that 
has  shown  itself  in  the  present  century  is  one  of  many 
indications  of  the  altered  attitude  of  mind  that  had  come 
to  be  exhibited  towards  the  poet.  The  feeling  mani- 
fested itself  somewhat  early.  It  can  be  seen  even  in 
Lipscomb,  whose  versions  are  generally  faithful  if  they 
are  tedious.  Adherence  to  the  original  became,  in  fact, 
one  test  of  the  value  of  these  modernizations  with  those 
who  supposed  they  had  any  value  at  all.  It  is  here  that 
the  essential  distinction  exists  between  the  practice  of 
the  eighteenth  and  of  the  nineteenth  century.  The 
former  tried  to  get  as  far  away  from  Chaucer’s  language 


MODERNIZATIONS  OF  LORD  THURLOW  203 

as  possible ; the  latter  tried  to  keep  as  near.  It  has 
taken  a long  while  to  discover  that  as  regards  the  poet 
himself  it  is  a matter  of  little  moment  what  is  the  ex- 
tent of  the  distance  which  it  is  thought  worth  while  to 
preserve.  It  is  the  credit  of  the  modernizer  that  is  af- 
fected by  the  course  he  adopts,  and  not  that  of  the  orig- 
inal author.  All  eighteenth-century  versions  of  Chau- 
cer were  failures.  At  best  they  gave  a wrong  concep- 
tion of  his  genius ; at  worst  they  gave  the  impression 
that  he  was  not  possessed  of  genius  at  all.  After  the 
experience  of  the  last  hundred  years  we  can  safely  go 
further  and  say  that  all  versions  are  destined  to  be  fail- 
ures. During  the  present  century  there  have  been  nu- 
merous attempts  at  modernization,  though  fortunately 
some  of  them  have  never  got  beyond  the  stage  of  man- 
uscript. The  work  of  three  men  in  particular  has  gained 
a good  deal  of  notoriety.  Their  versions  are  all  that  are 
necessary  to  be  considered  before  giving  an  account  of 
the  last  and  most  signal  enterprise  of  all.  These  three 
are  Lord  Thurlow,  the  nephew  of  the  famous  chancellor ; 
Wordsworth,  and  Leigh  Hunt. 

The  first  of  these  was  a nobleman  who  cultivated 
poetry  with  more  assiduity  than  success.  His  name  will 
be  found  appended  to  a number  of  forgotten  pieces, 
scattered  up  and  down  the  pages  of  several  forgotten 
magazines  belonging  to  the  first  quarter  of  the  present 
century.  Short  poems  of  his  are  also  found  occasionally 
in  modern  anthologies.  He  was  smitten  with  a love  of 
antiquity  which  showed  itself  in  imitation  of  some  of 
our  older  writers.  It  was  in  1822  that  he  brought  out  a 
modernization  of  the  Knight’s  tale  under  the  title  of 


204  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

‘ Arcita  and  Palemon.’  It  appeared  the  same  year  in  a 
second  edition — which  seems  to  have  been  due  to  the 
desire  of  the  noble  lord  rather  than  of  the  public — and 
with  it  this  time  the  modernization  of  ‘ The  Flower  and 
the  Leaf.’  To  most  men  it  would  have  seemed  some- 
what venturesome  to  bring  out  versions  in  direct  com- 
petition with  the  most  popular  as  well  as  the  only  poetic 
ones  that  had  hitherto  been  made.  But  he  who  had  no 
fear  of  Chaucer  before  his  eyes  was  not  likely  to  be 
seriously  disturbed  by  the  ghost  of  Dryden.  Of  all 
the  nineteenth-century  modernizations  these  of  Thurlow 
stand  in  sharpest  contrast  to  those  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  One  characteristic  all  of  the  latter,  however 
differing  in  other  respects,  possessed  in  common.  The 
aim  of  those  who  produced  them  was  to  make  the  versi- 
fication smooth.  The  sense  of  the  original  was  not  a 
matter  that  gave  them  the  chiefest  concern.  Their  at- 
tention was  directed  largely  to  the  sound.  It  might  or 
might  not  mean  anything ; but  it  was  necessary  that  it 
should  run  glibly  off  the  tongue.  The  second  was  that 
in  the  translation  the’  exact  language  of  Chaucer  should 
be  carefully  avoided.  This  was  a result  guarded  against 
so  zealously  that  the  makers  of  these  versions  apparently 
preferred  to  resort  to  the  feeblest  of  paraphrases  rather 
than  retain  perfectly  intelligible  and  expressive  lines  in 
the  form  in  which  they  came  from  the  author.  This 
was  a feeling  that  animated  all  the  translators  who 
formed  themselves  upon  the  model  of  Dryden  and 
Pope.  They  might,  perhaps,  admit  that  any  change 
must  be  change  for  the  worse ; but  to  alteration  even 
for  the  worse  they  seemed  to  feel  themselves  driven  by 


WHARTON’S  MODERNIZATION 


205 


a sort  of  irresistible  necessity.  They  occasionally  let  us 
know  what  pains  they  took  to  make  a poetical  expression 
unpoetical,  or  a vigorous  one  weak.  As  late  as  1804,  for 
example,  a volume  in  imitation  of  Dryden  was  brought 
out  by  Richard  Wharton  under  the  title  of  ‘Fables.’^  It 
consisted  of  poems  which  were  renderings  into  heroic 
verse  of  select  parts  of  Dante,  Berni,  Chaucer,  and  Arios- 
to. The  English  poet  is  represented  by  a moderniza- 
tion of  the  Franklin’s  tale.  For  the  literary  merit  of 
the  version,  it  is  sufficient  to  observe  that  it  is  worthy 
of  a place  in  Lipscomb.  Still,  it  can  be  said  for  the 
writer  that  he  knew  a good  thing  when  he  saw  it,  though 
he  did  not  know  enough  to  adopt  it.  Jn_the  opening  of 
this  tale  Chaucer  points  out  the  impossibility  of  love 
continuing  to  exist  where  it  is  made  to  feel  the  con- 
straint of  authority.  His  words  are  as  follows: 

“ When  mastery  cometh,  the  God  of  Love  anon 
Beateth  his  wings,  and  farewell ! he  is  gone !”  38. 

Wharton  appreciated  fully  the  original,  and  pointed  out 
how  forcibly  the  immediate  effect  of  the  exercise  of  au- 
thority is  conveyed  by  the  use  of  the  passive  ‘ is  gone.’ 
One  might  therefore  naturally  suppose  that  he  would 
have  been  glad  to  adopt  the  couplet  exactly  as  it  was 
written.  His  enthusiasm,  however,  did  not  lead  him  to 
take  so  extreme  a step.  It  did  induce  him,  as  he  tells 
us,  “ to  preserve  as  much  of  Chaucer’s  line  as  was  con- 
sistent with  modern  idiom.”  What  sacrifices  consistency 
with  modern  idiom  required  may  be  gathered  from  these 

^ Fables  : consisting  of  Select  Parts  verse  by  Richard  Wharton,  Esq., 
from  Dante,  Berni,  Chaucer,  and  M.  P.  (London,  1804). 

A riosto.  Imitated  in  English  heroic 


2o6 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


following  words,  in  which  the  extract  just  cited  appears 
in  his  version  : 

“ For  love,  if  either  strive  to  rule  alone, 

Extends  his  wings,  and  farewell ! he  is  gone.” 

The  example  is  worth  quoting,  as  it  gives  a pretty  clear 
conception  of  the  sort  of  skimmed  milk  that  was  dished 
up  to  the  eighteenth-century  reader  as  a specimen  of 
Chaucer’s  poetry. 

In  both  these  particulars  Thurlow  followed  the  oppo- 
site course.  He  aimed  to  make  his  versification  irregu- 
lar, we  might  say  rough.  This  he  did,  not  because  he 
lacked  the  ability  to  make  it  smooth,  but  because  he 
fancied  that  by  so  doing  he  was  giving  it  a likeness  to 
the  vigor  and  simplicity  of  the  original.  He  was  clearly 
a full  believer  in  the  theory  that  there  was  no  regularity 
in  Chaucer’s  metre ; that  his  lines  consisted  of  no  defi- 
nite number  of  syllables  ; and  that  he  who  sought  to  find 
exactness  in  them  was  looking  for  something  that  did 
not  exist.  In  this  matter  he  adopted  from  choice  the 
view  which  his  predecessors  had  adopted  from  igno- 
rance. It  was  consequently  a natural  inference  from 
these  doctrines  that  the  ruggeder  the  versification  the 
nearer  it  must  be  to  what  the  eighteenth  century  called 
the  homely  strains  of  the  original.  Conviction  can 
hardly  fail  to  force  itself  upon  the  reader  that  Thurlow 
designedly  made  his  verse  as  uneven  as  possible,  while 
preserving  a sort  of  rude  metrical  harmony.  The  lines 
are  exceedingly  irregular.  Tried  by  strict  rules,  some  of 
them  err  by  deficiency,  others  by  redundance.  They 
can  occasionally  be  found  consisting  of  as  many  as  four- 


CHARACTER  OF  THURLOW’S  VERSIONS  20/ 

teen  syllables.  There  is,  besides,  no  uniformity  of  ac- 
cent ; there  is,  indeed,  sedulous  care  manifested  to  avoid 
it.  Perfect  lines  do  occasionally  occur.  There  are  many 
such  in  Chaucer,  even  with  the  modern  pronunciation. 
The  result  is  that  no  one  capable  of  reading  can  manage 
to  mismetre  them,  no  matter  how  perverse  may  be  the 
theory  that  has  got  possession  of  his  mind.  As  this 
particular  modernizer  followed  his  original  pretty  closely, 
he  could  not,  therefore,  help  at  times  writing  smooth 
and  regular  lines  ; though  he  doubtless  felt  in  every  such 
instance  that  he  was  somehow  deviating  from  the  noble 
simplicity  of  the  early  poet. 

It  is  almost  needless  to  say  that  Thurlow  failed  wo- 
fully.  To  be  rugged  is  one  thing,  to  be  feeble  is 
another  ; to  be  both  feeble  and  rugged  is  a distinction 
which  it  seems  to  have  been  reserved  for  him  to  achieve. 
His  versions  had  the  bad  qualities  that  belong  to  dif- 
ferent bad  styles.  The  affectation  of  being  unaffected 
is,  perhaps,  more  disagreeable  than  deliberate  attempts 
to  be  grandiose.  There  is  a literary  hypocrisy  in  the 
former  which  cannot  exist  where  men  are  openly  striv- 
ing after  the  ornate.  Thurlow  suffered,  too,  from  a lack 
of  familiarity  with  the  archaic  diction  which  he  tried  at 
times  to  utilize.  As  a result,  he  contributed  to  the  Eng- 
lish language  some  new  words  of  which  it  has  not  yet 
felt  the  need,  and  transferred  some  of  its  old  words  to 
new  parts  of  speech.  He  had,  moreover,  crude  ideas  as 
to  what  constituted  simplicity.  In  particular,  he  had 
not  learned  that  effectiveness  of  utterance  can  never  be 
secured  by  a prodigal  use  of  exclamations  and  exclama- 
tion-points. Not  satisfied  with  Chaucer’s  ‘alas!’  and 


208 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


‘ welaway !’  he  indulged  in  a profusion  of  ‘ ah’s !’  and 
‘ O’s !’  and  even  in  ‘ ha ! ha’s !’  uttered  not  in  sport,  but 
in  the  spirit  of  the  war-horse  in  Job.  The  consequence 
is  that  these  perpetual  provocatives  to  emotion  pall 
upon  the  mind.  Accordingly,  what  at  first  promised 
to  be  entertaining,  because  it  was  ridiculous,  feels  the 
influence  of  the  general  atmosphere,  and  becomes  noth- 
ing but  dull.  This  criticism  is  much  truer  of  the  ren- 
dering of  the  Knight’s  tale  than  of  that  of  ‘ The  Flower 
and  the  Leaf.’  There  was  an  epic  dignity_  about  the 
former  which  was  necessarily  belittled  by  these  painful 
strivings  after  simplicity  which  often  approached  silli- 
ness, and  sometimes  exhibited  literary  vulgarity.  For 
there  are  places  in  which  the  version  of  Thurlow  does 
not  even  creep ; it  fairly  crawls. 

The  other  versions  to  be  considered  were  the  work 
of  two  men — Wordsworth  and  Leigh  Hunt — whose  feel- 
ings towards  Chaucer  were  almost  reverential.  This  did 
not  prevent  them  from  repeating  the  old  experiment, 
and  adding  their  names  to  the  list  of  failures.  The  ver- 
sions of  Wordsworth  were  composed  in  i8oi,  but  none 
of  them  were  published  till  many  years  after.  The  first 
one  to  be  printed  was  the  tale  of  the  Prioress.  This 
came  out  in  1820,  in  the  volume  containing  the  sonnets 
upon  the  river  Duddon.  In  a prefatory  note,  Words- 
worth described  the  method  according  to  which  the 
modernization  had  been  produced.  He  had  allowed 
himself,  he  said,  no  further  deviations  from  the  original 
than  were  necessary  for  the  fluent  reading  and  instant 
understanding  of  the  author.  He  retained,  besides,  the 
ancient  accent  in  a few  conjunctions  such  as  also  and 


MODERNIZATIONS  OF  WORDSWORTH  20g 

ahvciy,  from  a conviction  that  such  sprinklings  of  an- 
tiquity would  be  admitted  by  persons  of  taste  to  have 
a graceful  accordance  with  the  subject. 

Wordsworth’s  version  is  certainly  very  close  to  the 
original,  the  precise  language  of  which  it  frequently 
adopts.  The  experiment  is  therefore  all  the  more 
striking.  The  changes,  slight  as  they  are,  are  just  suffi- 
cient to  turn  pathetic  poetry  into  prosaic  prose.  The 
tale  of  the  Prioress  is  by  no  means  one  that  displays 
Chaucer’s  power  at  its  highest.  But  the  strains  of  ten- 
derness  and  of  simplicity  running  through  it  are  blended 
so  artistically  that  alteration  of  any  sort  is  inevitably 
for  the  worse.  The  intellectual  shortcomings  of  Words- 
worth, the  prosaic  quality  of  his  mind  when  not  work- 
ing under  the  influence  of  high  inspiration,  and  his  in- 
capacity at  such  times  to  distinguish  between  simplicity 
and  simpleness,  unfitted  him  to  be  an  interpreter  of 
Chaucer,  even  were  we  to  assume  that  Chaucer  stood  in 
need  of  an  interpreter.  Wayward  and  paradoxical  as 
are  many  of  Landor’s  judgments,  few  that  are  familiar 
with  the  two  poets  will  disagree  with  his  dictum  that 
Wordsworth  could  no  more  have  written  the  ‘ Canterbury 
Tales’  than  he  could  ‘Paradise  Lost.’  His  character- 
istics are  fully  displayed  in  his  rendering  of  the  tale  of 
the  Prioress.  ' There  is  nothing  in  his  version  to  indicate 
that  a man  of  genius  had  anything  whatever  to  do  with 
its  production.  What  he  did  could  have  been  accom- 
plished as  well  by  any  one  possessed  of  literary  taste 
and  of  ordinary  skill  in  versification.  In  this  respect 
his  work  stands  at  an  immense  distance  from  that  of 
Dryden ; for  while  the  modernizations  of  the  latter  are 
III.— 14 


210 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


inferior  to  the  original,  they  have  value  of  their  own  as 
independent  poems.  This  is  something  that  can  never 
be  said  either  of  the  versions  of  Wordsworth  already 
mentioned  or  of  those  that  will  be  mentioned  farther 
on.  Starting  from  an  opposite  quarter,  he  had  arrived 
at  the  same  point  which  was  reached  by  the  men  of  the 
eighteenth  century  who  had  devoted  themselves  to  this 
same  work.  Nobody  would  now  read  his  moderniza- 
tions with  the  idea  of  getting  a conception  of  Chaucer. 
Nor  are  they  of  sufficient  interest  or  merit  to  be  read 
for  themselves. 

Wordsworth  also  made  a version  of  the  Manciple’s 
tale  which  he  never  published,  not  because  the  original 
poem  was  indelicate,  but  because  the  subject  was.  As 
it  turns  upon  the  sufficiently  well-worn  topic  of  a man 
slaying  his  wife  for  her  unfaithfulness,  delicacy  can  be 
deemed  in  this  instance  to  have  fairly  passed  over  into 
the  region  of  prudery.  There  is,  however,  nothing  to 
regret  in  his  decision.  As  poems,  his  versions  are  in- 
ferior to  those  of  Leigh  Hunt,  who  deviates  much  far- 
ther from  the  language  of  the  original,  but  in  some  re- 
spects remains  more  faithful  to  its  spirit.  It  must  be 
confessed  that  this  is  a result  that  could  hardly  have 
been  expected  beforehand.  There  is  an  occasional  jaun- 
tiness, not  to  say  friskiness,  about  Leigh  Hunt’s  style 
which  is^grossly  unsuited  to  the  rendering  of  an  author 
like  Chaucer,  who,  in  his  most  humorous  passages,  never 
forgets  his  dignity.  But  Hunt’s  admiration  for  the  early 
poet  was  tempered  with  awe.  This  was  usually  suffi- 
cient to  put  restraint  upon  his  expression.  He  some- 
times, indeed — especially  in  his  late  version  of  the  Par- 


MODERNIZATIONS  OF  LEIGH  HUNT 


2II 


doner’s  tale — resorts  to  tricks  of  speech,  to  slang,  to  com- 
parisons and  illustrations  which  are  utterly  foreign  to 
the  quiet  but  elevated  earnestness  with  which  the  story 
is  told  in  the  original.  Still,  they  are  not  numerous 
enough  to  jar  perceptibly  upon  the  feelings.  To  some 
extent,  too,  they  are  counterbalanced  by  an  ease  and 
freedom  of  movement  which  reminds  the  reader  remotely 
at  least  of  the  great  original.  The  awe,  sincerely  felt 
by  Hunt,  was  curiously  exemplified  in  other  ways  be- 
sides that  of  mere  expression.  It  was  in  1823,  in  the 
periodical  called  ‘ The  Liberal,’  that  his  first  version  of 
one  of  Chaucer’s  productions  appeared  under  the  title 
of  ‘ Cambus  Khan.’  ^ This  was  the  Squire’s  tale,  a poem 
which,  partly  because  of  its  character,  partly  because  of 
its  unfinished  state,  seems  always  to  have  exercised  a 
singular  fascination  over  many  men  of  letters.  Boyse’s 
rendering  of  it  had  so  little  resemblance  to  the  original 
that  it  could  hardly  be  expected  to  satisfy  even  those 
who  believed  in  modernization.  Certainly  as  early  as 
1804  3-1^  entirely  new  version  had  been  produced;  and, 
though  it  never  excited  much  attention,  it  was  a fairly 
creditable  production  of  the  not  very  creditable  kind 
to  which  it  belonged.*^  It  had  the  merit  of  being  faith- 
ful. But  a close  rendering  was  not  the  project  with 
which  Hunt  started  out.  He  had  the  intention  of  using 
his  knowledge  of  Eastern  stories  to  complete,  after  a 
fashion  of  his  own,  the  fragment  that  Chaucer  had  left. 
With  this  idea  he  finished  the  first  canto,  introducing 

^ The  Liberal^  Verse  and  Prose  isterandRepositoryofFugitivePoe- 
fi'ojn  the  Sonth(LoxidoYi,  tiy  for  1804,  It  may  have  been 

317.  composed  and  even  printed  long 

It  appeared  in  the  Poetical  Reg-  before. 


212 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


into  it  certain  sentiments  and  incidents  for  which  he 
himself  was  solely  responsible.  Then,  as  he  confessed, 
his  courage  failed  him.  Frightened  at  his  own  audac- 
ity, he  left  half  told  his  own  rendering  of  the  half-told 
tale,  which  still  remains  unapproached  and  unapproach- 
able, as  it  came  from  the  hands  of  the  great  master.  At 
a later  period  he  modernized  the  Pardoner  s tale  under 
the  title  of  ‘ Death  and  the  Ruffians.’  When  he  repub- 
lished the  two,  he  did  it  with  a sort  of  apologetic  pref- 
ace. He  disclaimed  the  idea  of  having  composed  either 
of  his  versions  as  a substitute  for  the  original.  “ Never 
for  an  instant,”  he  said,  ‘‘  did  the  preposterous  idea  of 
emulation  enter  my  head.”  He  had  written  them  in 
the  hope  that  they  might  act  as  incitements  to  the 
study  of  the  great  author  from  whom  they  were  taken. 
This  is  a delusion  which  has  been  an  effective  motive 
in  the  production  of  many  of  these  versions.  They 
could  only  be  forgiven,  indeed,  on  the  ground  that  they 
exerted  such  an  influence.  . Yet  even  the  charity  which 
hopeth  as  well  as  endureth  all  things  can  hardly  have 
persuaded  itself  that  many  were  ever  inspired  to  make 
the  acquaintance  of  Chaucer  in  consequence  of  reading 
these  modernizations. 

The  practice,  indeed,  though  doomed  to  death  as  soon 
as  men  had  generally  the  ability  to  compare  the  transla- 
tion with  the  original,  continued  to  be  a favorite  exer- 
cise of  those  who  combined  great  theoretical  apprecia- 
tion of  Chaucer  with  limited  knowledge  of  his  language. 
More  than  one  attempt  of  this  kind  has  been  made  that 
has  never  been  published.  Others  have  not  been  so  fort- 
unate in  this  respect.  In  ‘Blackwood’s  Magazine  ’ for 


NEW  SCHEME  OF  MODERNIZATION  213 

May,  1837,  the  Clerk’s  tale  is,  for  instance,  again  retold 
in  heroic  verse.  It  is  one  of  those  respectable  pieces  of 
poetic  manufacture  which  reputable  periodicals  are  reg- 
ularly in  the  habit  of  printing,  but  no  one,  unless  under 
some  special  provocation,  ever  thinks  of  reading.  This 
piece  is  anonymous,  and  it  is  neither  bad  enough  nor 
good  enough  to  excite  curiosity  as  to  the  name  of  its 
author.  The  case  is  quite  different  with  the  more  pre- 
tentious work  that  now  comes  up  for  consideration.  This 
was  nothing  less  than  a renewal  in  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury of  the  scheme  to  modernize  Chaucer  on  a grand 
scale,  that  had  failed  so  signally  in  the  eighteenth.  It  is 
the  last  of  these  attempts,  and  for  some  reasons  much 
the  most  interesting  of  all.  Every  one  admitted  at  the 
time  it  was  undertaken  that  no  efforts  of  this  kind  in  the 
past  had  succeeded.  They  neither  conveyed  the  spirit 
of  the  poet  to  those  who  knew  him,  nor  excited  among 
those  who  knew  him  not  the  disposition  to  make  his  ac- 
quaintance. Yet  the  lesson  of  these  repeated  failures 
had  not  yet  been  learned.  In  1841 — precisely  one  hun- 
dred years  after  Ogle’s  version  had  appeared — was  pub- 
lished at  London  a single  volume  entitled  ‘ The  Poems 
of  Geoffrey  Chaucer  Modernized.’  This  was  the  initial 
outcome  of  an  elaborately  devised  scheme  to  bring  the 
works  of  the  early  poet  to  the  knowledge  of  all  men 
through  the  agency  of  a version  suited  to  their  supposed 
capacity  or  incapacity.  It  was  also  the  final  outcome. 
This  fact  indicates  that  the  project  was  not  remarkable 
for  its  success.  Still,  it  was  remarkable  for  the  character 
of  the  persons  concerned  in  it.  Among  them  were  some 
of  the  most  eminent  men  of  letters  then  living.  The 


214  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

list  of  contributors  to  this  one  volume  includes  the  two 
men  — Wordsworth  and  Leigh  Hunt  — whose  indepen- 
dent work  in  the  same  field  has  just  been  described.  Be- 
sides these,  Mrs.  Browning,  then  Miss  Barrett,  was  asso- 
ciated in  the  undertaking,  as  was  also  Lord  Houghton, 
then  Richard  Monkton  Milnes,  though  he  seems  to  have 
furnished  nothing. 

For  the  continuation,  moreover,  extensive  arrange- 
ments had  been  planned.  It  was  intended  to  ask  the 
co-operation  of  Tennyson,  Talfourd,  Browning,  Bulwer, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cowden  Clarke,  and  Mary  Howitt.  Wheth- 
er a request  to  this  effect  was  actually  made  to  each  and 
all  of  these  persons,  there  are  no  means  of  ascertaining. 
Still,  we  are  told  that  every  man  of  letters  who  was  in- 
vited to  take  part  in  the  project  consented  cordially, 
with  the  single  exception  of  Walter  Savage  Landor. 
He  had  seen  the  futility  as  well  as  the  folly  of  the  attempt 
the  moment  his  attention  had  been  called  to  it.  As 
might  be  expected  from  his  character,  he  had  no  hesita- 
tion in  expressing  his  opinion  with  distinctness  and  en- 
ergy. To  the  first  request  he  received  to  join  in  the 
enterprise  he  replied  that  “ as  many  people  read  Chau- 
cer as  are  fit  to  read  him.”  These  were  words  suscepti- 
ble of  a double  meaning.  They  were  naturally  taken  in 
the  sense  they  were  not  intended.  Landor,  therefore, 
wrote  another  letter  to  set  himself  right,  but  character- 
istically exhibited  in  the  same  breath  his  admiration  and 
affection  for  one  poet  and  his  dislike  of  another.  Chau- 
cer, he  remarked,  was  worth  a score  of  Spensers.  This 
was  an  opinion  he  was  in  the  habit  of  expressing.  The 
latter  author  he  had  never  liked  ; but  his  appreciation 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  MODERNIZATIONS  21 5 

of  the  former  had  grown  steadily  with  years.  Earlier  in 
life  he  had  taken  the  ground  that  Chaucer  was  a passably 
good  novelist,  but  hardly  to  be  called  a poet.  Later  he 
thought  him  a poet,  “whose  invention,  variety,  and  spirit 
are  equalled  by  Shakspeare  and  Milton  only.”  In  this 
second  letter,  defining  his  position,  he  adhered  unhesi- 
tatingly to  his  original  opinion  about  the  valuelessness 
of  modernization.  “ Pardon  me,”  he  said,  “ if  I say  I 
would  rather  see  Chaucer  quite  alone,  in  the  dew  of  his 
sunny  morning,  than  with  twenty  clever  gentlefolks 
about  him,  arranging  his  shoe-strings  and  buttoning  his 
doublet.  I like  even  his  language.  I will  have  no  hand 
in  breaking  his  dun  but  rich-painted  glass  to  put  in  (if 
clearer)  much  thinner  panes.” 

Views  like  these,  however,  were  not  the  ones  generally 
entertained.  While  the  initial  volume  was  going  through 
the  press,  we  are  told  in  its  Introduction  that  the  project 
received  demonstrations  of  the  utmost  sympathy  from 
many  high  quarters  at  home  and  abroad.  That  persons 
possessing  the  cultivation  and  ability  of  those  already 
mentioned  were  willing  to  go  into  an  enterprise  of  this 
character  is  pretty  conclusive  proof  of  how  little,  after 
all,  was  really  known  of  Chaucer.  At  any  rate,  that  such 
men  could  seriously  believe  that  the  process  in  which 
they  were  engaged,  or  to  which  they  had  given  their 
concurrence,  was  one  by  which  he  could  be  made  better 
known  and  appreciated  is  assuredly  satisfactory  proof 
of  how  little  they  comprehended  the  conditions  under 
which  his  fame  or  influence  could  be  extended.  Back 
of  this  scheme  there  was  genuine  admiration  of  the 
poet ; there  was  enthusiasm  in  the  attempt ; the  one 


2I6 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


thing  that  was  lacking  was  intelligence.  This  looks  like 
a particularly  hard  saying  to  utter  about  a number  of 
the  most  intelligent  persons  then  living,  some  of  whom 
possessed  genius  of  their  own  as  well  as  admiration  for 
the  genius  of  Chaucer.  Yet  there  seems  no  escape  from 
the  conclusion.  The  intelligence  they  possessed  was  not 
the  right  sort  of  intelligence.  It  was  not  of  the  kind 
which  could  deal  with  the  problem  they  set  out  to  solve. 
A different  kind  of  it,  indeed,  would  have  shown  them 
that  the  problem  was  insoluble.  Nor  was  it  merely 
knowledge  of  the  conditions  that  was  lacking.  In  many 
instances,  as  we  shall  have  occasion  to  see,  it  was  knowl- 
edge of  the  meaning  of  the  very  language  they  undertook 
to  explain.  There  is  nothing  that  proves  the  greater 
familiarity  with  Chaucer  that  has  come  about  during 
the  past  fifty  years  than  the  fact  that  nobody,  occupy- 
ing the  same  relative  literary  position,  could  now  say 
the  things  that  were  then  said,  or  think  the  things  that 
were  then  thought. 

The  volume  published  was  not  limited  to  the  ‘ Canter- 
bury Tales.’  The  intention  was  to  give  as  wide  a view 
as  possible  of  the  many-sided  character  of  Chaucer’s 
genius.  The  Introduction  assures  us,  indeed,  that  none 
of  his  minor  works  had  ever  been  made  known  to  the 
public  even  in  a paraphrase,  with  the  single  exception  of 
‘ The  Flower  and  the  Leaf,’  which  Dryden  had  modern- 
ized. These  latter  were  therefore  to  be  fully  repre- 
sented. Accordingly,  of  the  thirteen  pieces  contained 
in  the  volume,  six  only  were  taken  from  the  ‘ Canter- 
bury Tales.’  These  were  the  general  Prologue,  with  the 
exception  of  the  last  one  hundred  and  seventy-eight 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  MODERNIZATIONS  2\J 

lines,  and  the  Reeve’s  and  the  Franklin’s  tale,  with  their 
respective  introductions,  all  of  which  were  modernized 
by  Richard  Hengist  Horne,  who  held  the  position  of  ed- 
itor ; the  tale  of  the  Manciple,  of  the  Friar,  and  of  the 
Squire — the  last  an  entirely  new  and  much  more  faithful 
version — by  Leigh  Hunt ; and  the  tale  of  Sir  Thopas, 
with  its  prologue  and  part  of  its  epilogue,  by  an  anony- 
mous writer  who  shrouded  himself  under  both  ends  of 
the  alphabet  as  Z.  A.  Z.  M-ore  distinguished  contributors 
appeared  for  the  portions  of  the  work  not  taken  from 
the  ‘ Canterbury  Tales.’  Wordsworth  sent  a version  of 
twenty-four  stanzas  from  the  fifth  book  of  ‘Troilus  and 
Cressida,’  and  also  of  the  doubtful  poem  of  ‘The  Cuckoo 
and  the  Nightingale.’  Horne  tells  us,  moreover,  that  the 
rendering  of  ‘ The  Flower  and  the  Leaf,’  which  is  nomi- 
nally ascribed  to  Powell,  was  virtually  Wordsworth’s,  in 
consequence  of  the  labor  of  revision  and  rewriting  to 
which  it  was  subjected  at  his  hands.  Miss  Barrett  mod- 
ernized ‘ Anelida  and  Arcite.’  The  two  remaining  con- 
tributors— Thomas  Powell  and  Robert  Bell — were  much 
less  distinguished.  They  were  a pair  of  versifiers  who, 
so  far  as  poetry  was  concerned,  really  belonged  to  the 
eighteenth  century,  but  had  somehow  got  into  the  nine- 
teenth. They  would  have  been  in  their  proper  place 
contributing  to  Ogle’s  edition  of  1741.  ‘The  Flower 
and  the  Leaf  ’ and  the  stories  of  Ariadne,  Philomene, 
and  Phyllis,  in  the  ‘ Legend  of  Good  Women,’  were  mod- 
ernized by  the  former  ; the  ‘ Complaint  of  Mars  ’ and  the 
‘ Complaint  of  Venus  ’ by  the  latter.  Besides  this,  there 
was  an  Introduction  of  about  one  hundred  pages  by  the 
editor,  and  a life  of  Chaucer  by  Leonhard  Schmitz,  which 


2I8 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


was  particularly  careful  to  retain  every  misstatement  of 
fact  that  the  craziest  conjectures  of  previous  biographers 
had  succeeded  in  imposing  upon  the  world  as  actual  in- 
cidents in  the  career  of  the  poet. 

The  story  of  this  undertaking  has  been  told  pretty 
fully  by  its  editor.*  Who  was  its  original  inspirer  is  not 
definitely  known.  Horne  thought,  but  did  not  venture 
to  assert  positively,  that  it  was  set  on  foot  by  Words- 
worth. In  this  he  was  mistaken.  Wordsworth,  indeed, 
says  that  it  originated  in  what  he  attempted  with  the 
tale  of  the  Prioress ; but  he  was  so  far  from  making  any 
pretense  to  having  been  the  projector  of  the  scheme  that 
he  wrote  to  a correspondent  that  he  had  no  further  con- 
nection with  it  than  what  consisted  in  giving  it  a present 
of  his  two  contributions.  The  editorship,  however,  was 
offered  to  him  in  the  first  place.  But  he  was  too  old, 
and  he  was  too  far  away.  Leigh  Hunt,  as  the  one  next 
in  seniority,  was  then  proposed.  There  seems,  indeed, 
to  have  been  a vague  impression  that  the  older  a man 
was,  the  better  qualified  he  must  necessarily  be  to  read 
and  interpret  so  old  an  author  as  Chaucer.  But  he  also 
declined.  In  the  meanwhile,  several  of  the  moderniza- 
tions had  been  sent  to  Wordsworth  for  examination,  and 
one  of  these — a version  of  the  Franklin’s  tale  made  by 
Horne  — had  been  spoken  of  by  him  as  being  “ as  well 
done  as  any  lover  of  Chaucer’s  poetry  need  or  can  de- 
sire.” This  astounding  criticism  decided  the  matter.  It 
was  settled  that  Horne  should  exercise  editorial  super- 
vision over  the  work  which,  to  use  his  own  words,  was  to 

^ In  Letters  of  Elizabeth  Barrett  temporaries  (London,  1877),  vol.  i., 
Browning  addressed  to  Richard  Hen-  p.  95  ft. 
gist  Horne,  with  Comments  upon  Cojt- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  MODERNIZATIONS  219 

give  to  the  world  “ a true  yet  polnhed  modernization  of 
the  Father  of  English  Poetry.”  In  an  evil  hour,  he  tells 
us,  he  consented  to  undertake  the  task,  little  dreaming 
of  the  waste  of  time,  annoyance,  vexation,  and  mortifi- 
cation he  was  to  bring  upon  himself ; little  knowing,  we 
should  say,  the  folly  of  what  he  was  attempting,  and  his 
own  incompetence  to  do  even  poorly  what  it  was  impos- 
sible for  any  one  to  do  well. 

Most  of  the  versions  in  this  volume  kept  very  close 
to  the  words  as  well  as  to  the  general  sense  of  the  origi- 
nal. In  some  cases  neither  the  language  nor  the  ideas 
of  Chaucer  were  preserved ; but  this  was  not  so  much 
due  to  design  as  to  incapacity.  There  was  no  attempt 
at  expansion,  and  very  little  addition  of  new  sentiments 
or  new  images,  the  so-called  improvements  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century.  Nor  was  there  a disposition  to  omit  or 
to  contract.  Only  such  passages  were  discarded  as  were 
avowedly  left  out  on  the  score  of  delicacy  or  of  digres- 
sions that  interfered  with  the  progress  of  the  story.  In 
many  places  the  very  lines  of  the  original  were  intro- 
duced. So  far  so  good,  it  may  be  said.  But  to  the 
inevitable  consequence  that  any  alteration  would  be 
alteration  for  the  worse  is  to  be  added  a frequent  misun- 
derstanding of  the  meaning  of  words,  which  leads  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  modernizers  had  in  general  a noble 
disdain  of  any  aid  that  could  have  been  received  from 
so  common  a work  as  the  glossary  of  Tyrwhitt.  That 
editor,  indeed,  is  mentioned  but  twice,  and  much  of  the 
information  he  brought  to  light  was  carefully  ignored. 
It  is  interesting,  in  consequence,  to  read  the  conflict  of 
views  that  took  place  between  persons  whose  minds. 


220 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


while  filled  with  enthusiasm  and  admiration,  were  un- 
trammelled by  any  prejudices  that  sprang  from  exact 
knowledge.  Horne  has  taken  the  pains  to  give  us  an 
idea  of  the  character  of  the  correspondence  that  was 
carried  on,  and  in  some  instances  has  furnished  us  with 
its  very  words.  In  particular,  he  has  preserved  a speci- 
men of  the  printed  proofs  that  passed  between  him  and 
one  of  the  contributors,  with  the  remarks  and  corrections 
that  were  inscribed  upon  its  margin.  A veritable  curi- 
osity of  literature  it  was  in  his  eyes ; and  such  it  was, 
though  not  in  the  sense  he  understood  it.  He  looked 
upon  these  comments  and  criticisms  with  a melancholy 
pride.  A few  of  them  he  recorded,  because  they  afford- 
ed some  slight  notion  of  the  annoyance  and  trouble  con- 
nected with  the  editorship,  but  more  especially  of  the 
literary,  philological,  and  archaeological  contests  that 
attended  the  production  of  the  work.  To  him  these 
contests  showed  the  admirable  earnestness  of  the  trans- 
lators. To  us  they  show  rather  their  extraordinary 
ignorance  of  the  poet’s  language,  and  their  utter  uncon- 
sciousness of  their  ignorance.  For  a single  illustration 
it  is  evident  that  the  Gransoun,  whom  Chaucer  in  his 
‘Complaint  of  Venus’  styled  the  flower  of  those  who 
write  poetry  in  France,  was  originally  understood  by 
Robert  Bell  to  mean  ‘ grandson,’  and  had  been  so  ren- 
dered. Misapprehensions  of  this  sort  were  largely  set 
right  by  the  collective  wisdom  of  the  persons  engaged 
in  the  undertaking  while  the  volume  was  in  course  of 
preparation.  This  is  something  to  be  regretted.  Had 
the  ignorance  of  each  been  allowed  to  have  its  perfect 
work,  the  book  would  always  have  had  a peculiar  inter- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  MODERNIZATIONS 


221 


est  of  its  own,  though  not  quite  the  sort  of  interest  that 
the  projectors  of  the  scheme  anticipated. 

There  were,  however,  a sufficient  number  of  inaccu- 
racies, to  put  it  mildly,  that  were  left  undisturbed  to 
gratify  the  longings  of  the  most  fault-finding  of  critics. 
The  work  from  one  end  to  the  other  was  in  truth  a suc- 
cession of  blunders.  These  were  heralded  by  a piece  of 
carelessness  exhibited  at  the  very  beginning  of  the  book. 
Wordsworth,  in  forwarding  his  contributions,  had  en- 
closed an  extract  from  Drayton,  celebrating  the  great- 
ness of  Chaucer.  This  was  printed  in  full  on  the  title- 
page.  It  was,  however,  credited  to  him  who  had  sent 
it  instead  of  him  who  had  written  it.  This,  though  an 
unlucky,  was  not  an  unnatural,  mistake ; but  it  appro- 
priately led  the  way  to  a series  of  errors  that  could  only 
have  been  made  by  ignorance  that  was  unusually  wide- 
reaching.  In  the  number  and  variety  of  these,  prece- 
dence, as  is  just,  must  be  given  to  the  editor.  It  is  hard 
to  say  whether  his  own  renderings  or  his  criticism  of  the 
renderings  of  others  is  fuller  of  misunderstanding  and 
mistake.  With  the  opinions  expressed  in  his  Introduc- 
tion I have  nothing  to  do.  But  there  is  hardly  a state- 
ment of  fact  found  in  it  that  is  not  either  itself  wholly 
an  error  or  characterized  by  some  error  of  detail.  Many 
of  his  assertions  are  what  might  be  expected  from  one 
who,  as  late  as  1877,  in  deploring  Landor’s  refusal  to 
join  this  company  of  poetical  adventurers,  attributed 
the  fact  that  Chaucer  continued  to  be  unread  to  “ the 
'true  but  narrow  devotion  of  the  best  men  on  the  black- 
letter  side,  and  their  resistance  to  all  attempts  to  melt 
the  obsolete  language  and  form  it  into  modern  moulds.” 


222 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


Certain  elementary  facts  Horne  had  never  succeeded 
in  mastering.  It  is  plain  from  several  of  his  remarks 
that  all  his  life  he  seriously  entertained  the  impression 
that  black-letter  was  a period  in  the  history  of  the  Eng- 
lish tongue,  instead  of  the  name  of  a particular  method 
of  writing  and  printing  the  characters  of  the  alphabet. 
His  Introduction,  after  giving  vent  to  the  usual  wail 
about  how  little  Chaucer  was  read,  announced  as  the 
remedy  for  this  deplorable  neglect  of  the  poet  that 
people  must  be  given  something  of  his  to  read  which  he 
did  not  write  himself.  This  was  the  way  to  make  him 
known  and  loved  of  all  men.  He  went  on  then  to  fur- 
nish information  as  extraordinary  as  his  opinions.  Those 
who  are  best  acquainted  with  how  much  has  been  ac- 
complished during  the  past  twenty  years  in  the  elucida- 
tion of  Chaucer  are  the  most  painfully  aware  of  how  much 
still  remains  to  be  accomplished.  From  this  Introduc- 
tion they  will  learn,  however,  that,  as  long  ago  as  1841, 
everything  had  been  done  for  his  works  in  the  collation 
of  texts  that  could  be  desired ; that  ample  and  erudite 
notes  and  glossaries  had  been  furnished  to  explain  his 
m.eaning ; that  paraphrases  of  all  sorts  had  been  made ; 
that,  in  fact,  everything  had  been  done  for  him  except  to 
make  him  intelligible  to  the  general  reader.  To  verify 
this  statement,  Horne  indulged  in  some  criticisms  upon 
the  versions  previously  made.  These,  if  they  proved 
nothing  else,  made  clear  that  to  the  special  reader 
Chaucer  was  as  unintelligible  as  he  was  to  the  general. 
His  censures  of  others  were,  to  be  sure,  just  enough  in 
themselves.  They  would  have  furnished  little  ground 
for  exception  if  he  had  not  made  the  mistake  of  fortify- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  MODERNIZATIONS  223 

ing  his  position  by  examples.  He  attacked  Markland, 
for  instance,  because  in  his  version  of  the  Friar’s  tale  he 
had  omitted  one  striking  image.  The  early  poet  had 
pictured  the  restless  curiosity  of  the  Summoner  in  the 
following  words : 

“ This  Summoner,  that  was  as  full  of  jangles, 

As  full  of  venom  be  these  wariangles. 

And  ever  inquiring  upon  everything.”  109-111. 

The  last  line  refers,  of  course,  to  the  Summoner.  It  was 
understood  by  Mr.  Horne  to  refer  to  the  wariangle,  a 
bird  of  uncertain  identity,  but  sometimes  defined  as  a 
woodpecker.  The  misconception  is  followed  by  this 
choice  morsel  of  criticism.  “ The  idea,”  he  writes,  “ thus 
presented  to  the  imagination  of  the  busy  creature  pass- 
ing from  branch  to  branch,  with  his  tapping  inquiry  and 
his  curious  prying  bill,  is  certainly  one  of  those  wonder- 
fully happy  thoughts  seldom  found  in  any  other  writer 
except  Shakspeare.”  The  editor  attributed  Markland’s 
omission  of  this  happy  thought  to  indisposition  on  his 
part  to  take  the  trouble  to  study  the  passage.  It  was 
an  aversion  to  labor  which  he  could  have  imitated  with 
advantage.  It  is  by  reading  such  criticisms  as  these  that 
one  learns  to  appreciate  of  what  incalculable  benefit 
laziness  has  been  to  the  world.  This  is  but  one  example 
of  numerous  mistakes  that  can  be  found  scattered  up  and 
down  the  hundred  pages  of  this  Introduction.  Even 
poor  Lipscomb,  who  had  carefully  excluded  on  the 
ground  of  its  immorality  the  very  Reeve’s  tale  which 
Horne  himself  modernized,  and  who  had  toned  down 
everything  that  he  thought  could  offend  taste,  was 
soundly  scored  for  his  grossness  and  vulgarity. 


224  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

It  is,  however,  in  his  versions  that  Horne  showed  most 
strikingly  his  incapacity  for  understanding  an  author, 
knowledge  of  whom  he  was  seeking  to  impart  to  others. 
There  is  more  in  this  than  the  mere  ignorance  of  the 
meanings  of  obsolete  words  or  obsolete  significations, 
which  a consultation  of  Tyrwhitt’s  glossary  would  have 
dispelled  at  once.  His  modernizations,  especially  that 
of  the  general  Prologue,  will  often  fill  the  mind  of  the 
reader  with  uneasy  apprehensions  as  to  whether  he  him- 
self has  not,  after  all,  made  a mistake  in  supposing  that 
he  had  become  acquainted  with  his  native  tongue.  I cite 
a few  instances  out  of  many  to  illustrate  both  points. 
In  the  description  of  the  Prioress  in  the  original,  the  state- 
ment is  made  that  “it  pained  her”  — that  is,  that  ‘she 
took  pains’ — to  imitate  the  manners  of  the  court.  In  the 
modernization  the  phrase  just  mentioned  is  interpreted 
in  accordance  with  its  present  signification.  We  are  in- 
formed that  it  gave  her  pain  to  imitate  the  manners  of 
the  court,  thus  completely  falsifying  the  sense  of  the  pas- 
sage. Chaucer,  again,  had  said  that  in  the  spring-time 
palmers  went  to  seek  strange  strands — a very  natural 
thing  to  do.  In  Horne’s  versions  countries  and  sea- 
coasts  are  confounded,  and  we  are  told  that  palmers  set 
out  to  wander  through  strange  strands.  Catel^  again, 
which  in  Chaucer  means  ‘ property,’  ‘ capital,’  and  never 
‘cattle,’  was  rendered  by  Horne  in  several  senses,  not 
one  of  which  was  the  true  one.  In  one  place  it  is  trans- 
lated by  ‘ harvest,’  in  another  by  ‘ herd,’  and  in  still  an- 
other by  ‘ kine.’  The  last  occurs  in  the  account  given 
of  the  worldly  means  of  the  members  of  the  guilds,  men 
who  were  not  likely  to  be  largely  interested  in  the  breed 


THE  LAST  OF. THE  MODERNIZATIONS 


225 


of  domestic  animals.  These  same  persons,  it  is  to  be 
added,  were  represented  in  the  original  as  clad  in  the 
livery  of  a great  fraternity ; in  the  modernization  they 
appear  “ with  a grave  fraternity  inspired,”  whatever  these 
words  may  signify.  This  misconception  of  meaning,  or 
failure  to  express  it,  sometimes  assumes  an  almost  gro- 
tesque character.  Chaucer,  in  referring  to  the  straitened 
circumstances  of  the  Clerk  of  Oxford,  says : 

“ Full  threadbare  was  his  overest  courtepy.”  290. 

The  poverty  of  the  original  becomes  destitution  of  a 
peculiarly  painful  sort  in  the  modern  version.  A more 
limited  supply  of  outer  garments  cannot  well  be  imag- 
ined than  is  depicted  in  such  a rendering  as  the  follow- 
ing: 

“His  uppermost  short  cloak  was  a bare  thread.’’ 

I have  singled  out  Horne  for  comment  partly  because 
he  was  the  editor  of  the  volume,  partly  because,  as  histo- 
rian of  the  undertaking — so  far  as  it  had  a history — he 
remained  to  the  last  a firm  believer  in  this  method  of 
extending  the  knowledge  and  reputation  of  Chaucer. 
A few  years  before  his  death  he  contributed  to  a Lon- 
don magazine^  a modernized  version  of  the  poet’s  bal- 
lade entitled  the  ‘ Complaint  to  his  Purse,’  and  of  the 
famous  description  of  the  Temple  of  Mars  contained  in 
the  Knight’s  tale.  The  former  is  not  of  sufficient  merit 
to  suffer  much  harm  from  any  rendering.  Still,  it  is  in- 
teresting to  notice  that  in  each  one  of  its  three  verses 
Horne  succeeded  in  grossly  misunderstanding,  or  at 
least  in  misinterpreting,  the  sense.  The  second  mod- 

III.— 15 


^ Temple  Bar  for  March  and  October,  1878. 


226 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


ernization,  like  Wordsworth’s  version  of  the  tale  of  the 
Prioress,  is  only  of  value  for  the  illustration  it  furnishes 
of  the  slightness  of  the  change  required  in  order  to  re- 
duce the  highest  poetry  to  the  level  of  commonplace. 
It  is  well  to  make  clear  that  ignorance  of  the  poet’s  lan- 
guage, which  had  been  at  the  foundation  of  these  at- 
tempts in  the  eighteenth  century,  continued  still  to  be 
their  predominating  characteristic  in  the  nineteenth. 
For  Horne  was  not  solely  responsible  for  his  own  ren- 
derings which  are  found  in  this  volume.  His  version 
of  the  Prologue,  full  as  it  was  of  gross  blunders,  was 
read  in  proof  by  both  Miss  Barrett  and  Leigh  Hunt, 
and  was  declared  by  Wordsworth  to  be  well  done.  In 
criticising  the  skill  displayed  in  it,  we  get  a fair  concep- 
tion of  the  degree  of  knowledge  that  was  brought  to 
bear  upon  this  enterprise.  It  will  fully  justify  the  ap- 
parently harsh  criticism  that  was  made  some  pages  pre- 
vious, that  it  was  not  enthusiasm  that  was  lacking  in 
the  undertaking,  but  intelligence.  Nor  was  this  all. 
The  license  of  versification  in  which  the  miodernizers 
indulged  themselves  was  frequently  of  a kind  that  the 
poet  of  a so-called  barbarous  age  would  never  have  tol- 
erated for  a moment.  Leigh  Hunt,  in  fact,  protested 
vainly  against  such  rymes  as  arcJi  and  porch^  blood  and 
mad,  which  Horne  used  and  defended.  The  latter  had 
no  difficulty  in  showing  that  the  former  was  guilty  of 
atrocities  of  his  own.  Yet  the  worst  case  of  license  to 
be  found  in  the  volume  was  the  work  of  a person  of 
greater  genius  than  either  of  the  two.  Chaucer,  in 
the  opening  of  the  poem  of  ‘ Anelida  and  Arcite,’ 
tells  us  that  he  takes  the  story  from  the  Latin,  and 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  MODERNIZATIONS  22/ 

in  the  following  lines  invokes  the  muse  of  lyric  poetry, 
that 

“ Singest  with  voice  memorial  in  the  shade, 

Under  the  laurer^  which  that  may  not  fade, 

And  do^  that  I my  ship  to  haven  win. 

First  follow  I Stace,  and  after  him  Corinne.” 

The  last  two  lines  were  thus  rendered  by  Miss  Barrett : 

“ Now  grant  my  ship  that  some  smooth  haven  win  her, 

I follow  Statius  first,  and  then  Corinna.” 


A ryme  of  this  kind  sets  the  teeth  on  edge  of  an  ad-^ 
mirer  of  Chaucer.  What  would  have  been  its  effect  • 
upon  Chaucer  himself  ? 

There  is  no  question  that  the  projectors  of  this  mod- 
ernization planned  it,  as  they  declared,  in  all  sincerity 
and  reverent  admiration.  They  themselves  were  satis- 
fied with  the  way  it  had  been  done.  They  fancied  that 
on  the  whole  they  had  accomplished  worthily  a noble 
task.  Wordsworth,  indeed,  had  not  been  altogether 
pleased  with  some  things  that  had  characterized  the 
undertaking.  He  had  protested  at  the  outset  against 
admitting  anything  that  savored  of  coarseness  and  in- 
delicacy. For  this  reason  he  had  not  been  willing  to 
place  his  version  of  the  Manciple’s  tale  at  the  disposal 
of  the  editor.  It  was  not  itself  offensive,  but  it  trenched 
upon  dangerous  ground.  He  was  particularly  annoyed 
by  the  fact  that  the  Reeve’s  tale  was  included.  This 
he  felt  to  be  something  intolerable.  Whatever  may  be 
thought  of  his  view  upon  this  point,  no  one  can  deny 
the  correctness  of  his  opinion  that  Horge,  by  the  neces- 


^ I.aurel. 


^ Cause. 


228 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


sity  he  lay  under  of  softening  down  the  incidents,  had 
killed  the  spirit  and  special  humor  of  the  original.  Still, 
in  spite  of  the  things  to  which  he  took  exception,  he  did 
not  v/ithhold  his  approbation.  “ So  great,”  he  wrote,  ‘‘  is 
my  admiration  of  Chaucer’s  genius,  and  so  profound  my 
reverence  for  him  as  an  instrument  in  the  hands  of  Prov- 
idence for  spreading  the  light  of  literature  through  his 
native  land,  that  notwithstanding  the  defects  and  faults 
in  this  publication,  I am  glad  of  it  as  a means  for  mak- 
ing many  acquainted  with  the  original  who  would  other- 
wise be  ignorant  of  everything  about  him  but  his  name.” 
Miss  Barrett  was  far  more  enthusiastic.  She  anticipat- 
ed the  judgment  of  the  public  with  confidence.  “If 
people,”  she  wrote,  “ are  not  (say  what  they  please)  de- 
lighted with  this  volume,  this  breathing  of  sweet  souths 
over  the  bank  of  deathless  violets,  there  can  be  no  room 
for  delight  in  their  souls.” 

There  was  this  justification  for  these  feelings,  that 
had  such  a work  been  produced  a hundred  years  earlier 
by  a band  of  writers  nearly  all  of  them  possessed  of 
reputation  and  several  of  them  possessed  of  genius,  it 
would  have  been  hailed  with  acclamation  as  a positive 
contribution  to  English  literature,  and  as  a positive  im- 
provement upon  the  original.  Bfit  this  was  the  middle 
of  the  nineteenth  century,  and  not  of  the  eighteenth. 
During  the  time  that  had  gone  by,  men  had  been  run- 
ning to  and  fro,  and  knowledge  had  been  increased. 
The  coolness,  not  to  call  it  contempt,  with  which  this 
volume  was  received  was  one  of  the  healthiest  signs  of 
the  genuine  interest  that  had  begun  to  be  taken  in  the 
poet,  and  the  genuine  advance  in  appreciation  of  him 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  MODERNIZATIONS  229 

that  had  been  made.  There  were  plenty  of  men  to 
point  out  the  blunders  that  had  been  committed,  the 
misapprehensions  of  meaning  that  abounded,  and  the 
general  feebleness  and  occasional  inanity  with  which  the 
meaning,  when  understood,  had  been  expressed.  There 
was,  indeed,  a manifestation  of  feeling  almost  in  the  nat- 
ure of  resentment  exhibited  at  the  treatment  to  which 
the  poet  had  been  subjected.  The  admirers  of  the  book 
were  mainly  limited  to  its  contributors.  The  second 
volume,  which  had  been  projected,  seems  never  even  to 
have  been  begun. 


230 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


III. 

^ ^HE  account  given  in  the  preceding  section  of  the 
imitations  and  modernizations  of  Chaucer’s  works 
has  been  a long  one.  Were  it  not  for  the  light  they 
cast  upon  the  views  entertained  about  the  poet  at  dif- 
ferent periods,  they  could  hardly  be  thought  to  deserve 
the  attention  and  space  they  have  received,  in  spite  of 
the  many  famous  names  that  have  been  connected  with 
their  production.  There  is  nothing  more  singular  about 
their  history  than  the  tenacity  with  which  those  con- 
cerned in  these  renderings  have  clung  to  the  belief  that 
by  their  versions  they  were  doing  a service  to  the  mem- 
ory of  Chaucer.  To  some  extent  they  doubtless  made 
him  better  known.  But  it  was  rarely,  if  ever,  in  a way 
to  be  admired.  Even  the  best  of  these  modernizations 
had  no  enduring  vitality  as  compared  with  the  original. 
Their  own  lease  of  life  expired  with  the  taste  of  the  age 
that  begot  them — a taste  which  preferred  the  ‘ Henry 
and  Emma’  of  Prior  to  the  ballad  of  the  ‘ Nut-Brown 
Maid.’  It  was  not  by  illegitimate  methods  of  this  kind 
that  interest  ^n  the  writings  of  the  poet  was  to  be  re- 
vived. That  could  only  be  the  result  of  the  study  of 
his  works  as  he  wrote  them,  and  not  as  some  one  else 
rewrote  them.  The  eighteenth  century  shows  in  this 
matter  a decided  advance  over  the  seventeenth.  It  can 


INFLUENCE  OF  DRYDEN 


231 


be  seen  not  only  in  the  increased  number  of  editions, 
but  in  critical  estimates  that  were  not  in  every  case 
mere  echoes  of  the  past,  but  independent  exercises  of 
mental  activity.  There  was  then,  to  be  sure,  far  more 
outspoken  depreciation  of  the  early  poet  than  in  the 
century  preceding ; but  this  was  largely  due  to  the  fact 
that  there  was  fuller  appreciation.  Chaucer  was  gradu- 
ally becoming  something  more  than  a name.  Hence 
his  pretensions  were  scrutinized  with  a caution  and  at- 
tacked with  a severity  they  would  never  have  met  with 
had  he  still  continued  to  be  nominally  admired  without 
being  read  at  all. 

Much  of  this  increased  interest  was  undoubtedly  due 
to  Dryden.  So  great  was  his  critical  authority,  espe- 
cially with  the  generation  that  succeeded  him,  that  few 
were  disposed  to. deny  outright  any  dictum  of  his,  how- 
ever much  it  might  disagree  with  their  own  opinions. 
The  praise  which  he  had  bestowed  upon  Chaucer  in  the 
preface  to  the  ‘Fables’  was  reinforced  in  the  poetical 
dedication  of  the  Knight’s  tale  to  the  Duchess  of  Or- 
mond, with  which  the  verse  contained  in  the  volume 
opened.  In  the  first  paragraph  he  put  the  English  au- 
thor by  the  side  of  Homer  and  Virgil  in  the  following 
lines : 

“ The  bard  who  first  adorned  our  native  tongue 
Tuned  to  his  British  lyre  this  ancient  song: 

Which  Homer  might  without  a blush  rehearse, 

And  leaves  a doubtful  palm  in  Virgil’s  verse : 

He  matched  their  beauties  where  they  most  excel ; 

Of  love  sung  better,  and  of  arms  as  well.” 

If  we  can  trust  Dryden’s  words,  as  already  quoted,  his 


232  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

preference  of  Chaucer  to  Ovid  would  irritate  the  com- 
mon judgment.  We  can  therefore  imagine  the  state  of 
mind  in  which  the  learned  world  would  be  thrown  by 
his  placing  the  early  poet  on  a level  with  Homer  and 
Virgil.  As  a general  rule,  they  bore  with  it  patiently. 
His  praise  was  looked  upon  in  the  light  of  a rhetorical 
exaggeration,  and  no  more  to  be  taken  seriously  than 
his  belief  in  the  existence  in  any  given  case  of  the  abili- 
ties and  virtues  with  which  he  liberally  endowed  the 
men  to  whom  he  dedicated  his  works.  The  view  that 
came  to  be  generally  entertained  of  the  reason  that  led 
him  to  commend  Chaucer  was  formulated  by  Joseph 
Trapp  in  the  course  of  lectures  he  delivered  as  professor 
of  poetry  in  the  University  of  Oxford.  This  was  to  the 
effect  that  Dryden  was  in  the  habit  of  giving  utterance 
to  critical  opinions  which  were  designed  to  help  forward 
the  particular  undertaking  that  he  had  in  hand.  The  pro- 
ceeding is  not  so  unusual  on  the  part  of  writers  generally 
as  to  render  it  necessary  to  make  such  conduct  in  his 
case  the  subject  of  special  animadversion.  This  weighty 
judgment  had,  however,  the  fortune  to  be  adopted  by 
Dr.  Johnson,  and  to  be  repeated  by  Walter  Scott.  It 
hence  attained  a vogue  to  which  it  was  not  entitled 
either  by  its  own  merits  or  by  the  merits  of  its  orig- 
inator. Trapp  was  the  author  of  some  of  the  stupidest 
occasional  verses  that  can  be  found  in  the  stupidest  mis- 
cellanies that  were  brought  out  in  the  early  part  of  the 
eighteenth  century.  His  main  distinction,  however,  con- 
sists in  having  turned  into  some  of  the  worst  English  in 
the  world  some  of  the  world’s  greatest  poetry.  We  need 
not  wonder  that  this  representative  of  a narrow  and  pe- 


INFLUENCE  OF  DRYDEN 


233 


dantic  culture,  which  dubbed  itself  liberal,  should  have 
been  struck  with  a feeling  akin  to  horror  at  Dryden’s 
ardent  expressions  of  admiration  for  an  author  whom  he 
himself  neither  knew  about  nor  wanted  to  know  about, 
nor  could  have  appreciated  if  he  had  known  about,  or 
that  he  should  have  felt  called  upon  in  the  line  of 
duty  to  rebuke  the  foremost  man  of  letters  of  the  for- 
mer generation  for  the  profanation  of  criticism  which  his 
comparison  of  the  English  poet  to  Homer  and  Virgil  in- 
volved. 

The  respect  paid  at  that  time  to  Dryden’s  authority 
was  too  great,  however,  to  be  overborne  by  the  united 
heaviness  of  all  the  pedants  of  the  age.  Men  would 
naturally  be  affected  by  his  lofty  estimate  of  any  author, 
even  though  they  might  look  upon  his  praise  as  grossly 
exaggerated.  The  imitations  and  modernizations  which 
have  already  been  recounted  are  of  themselves  ample 
evidence  of  the  influence  he  exerted  in  this  particular 
instance.  The  attention  that  was  paid  to  the  early  poet 
may  have  been  to  a large  extent  a fashion.  It  may  have 
had  little  root  in  genuine  knowledge,  and  therefore  in 
genuine  appreciation.  Certainly  its  tone  is  often  not  so 
much  that  of  admiration  for  Chaucer  as  of  admiration  of 
itself  for  condescending  to  concern  itself  with  the. gar- 
rulous, childlike,  simple-hearted  versifier  of  a barbarous 
age.  Still,  there  was  familiarity,  even  if  it  was  not  in- 
telligent familiarity.  The  references  to  the  poet  often 
indicate,  indeed,  that  more  interest  attached  to  his  name 
than  to  anything  he  wrote.  With  most  men  of  letters 
knowledge  of  his  productions  was  apparently  limited  to 
the  ‘Canterbury  Tales;’  though,  besides  the  instances 


234  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

mentioned  already,  Prior,  in  his  poem  of  ‘The  Turtle 
and  Sparrow,’  makes  an  allusion  to  the  ‘ Parliament  of 
Fowls.’  One  singular  exhibition  of  this  revived  interest 
about  Chaucer,  though  rather  about  the  man  than  the 
poet,  can  be  found  in  a dramatic  production  based  to 
some  extent  upon  passages  contained  in  his  greatest 
work.  This  was  a comedy  written  by  Gay,  and  entitled 
‘ The  Wife  of  Bath.’  In  it,  on  its  original  representation, 
Chaucer  was  the  principal  hero.  The  piece  was  brought 
out  at  the  Theatre  Royal  in  Drury  Lane  in  May,  1713, 
and  ran  about  three  nights.  The  little  success  it  met  was 
full  as  much  as  it  deserved.  It  was  a play  of  a thorough- 
ly vulgar  character,  whether  looked  at  from  the  moral  or 
the  literary  point  of  view.  The  heroine,  whom  the  poet 
is  represented  as  winning  by  working  upon  her  super- 
stitious beliefs,  is  too  great  a fool  to-  be  endured  even 
among  the  numberless  inanities  that  crowd  the  realm  of 
fiction.  This  comedy,  rewritten  and  a good  deal  altered, 
was  revived  at  the  theatre  in  Lincoln’s  Inn  Fields  in 
January,  1730,  but  met  with  the  same  fate  as  on  its  orig- 
inal appearance. 

The  critical  estimate  given  by  Pope  shows,  however, 
keen  appreciation.  He  was  in  a sense  true  to  the  judg- 
ment of  his  great  predecessor,  and  expressed  his  admira- 
tion as  unreservedly  as  he,  if  not  quite  so  heartily.  He 
is  represented  by  Spence  as  declaring  that  he  read  Chau- 
cer with  as  much  pleasure  as  almost  any  other  English 
poet.  “He  is,”  he  said,  “a  master  of  manners,  of  de- 
scription, and  the  first  tale-teller  in  the  tongue  in  the 
true  enlivened  natural  way.”  There  is  no  reason  to 
doubt  the  sincerity  of  this  utterance  any  more  than 


POPE  ON  CHAUCER 


235 


there  is  to  deny  its  acumen.  Yet  in  one  of  the  most 
highly  finished  of  Pope’s  productions  there  occurs  a line 
which  might  fairly  seem  to  imply  that  he  almost  resent- 
ed the  attention  which  the  father  of  English  poetry  was 
beginning  to  receive.  The  work  to  which  reference  is 
made  is  the  ‘ Imitation,’  that  appeared  in  1737,  of  the 
epistle  that  Horace  addressed  to  Augustus  Caesar.  It  is 
itself  a review  of  English  literature  from  the  standpoint 
of  the  former  half  of  the  eighteenth  century.  It  ex- 
presses clearly  and  forcibly  the  critical  estimates  of  the 
school  of  which  the  writer  was  the  great  representative 
as  well  as  exponent.  In  this  brilliant  piece,  Pope,  follow- 
ing his  model,  inveighs — to  our  eyes  somewhat  unneces- 
sarily— against  the  disposition,  which  he  asserts  or  as- 
sumes to  be  prevalent,  to  depreciate  the  worth  of  living 
writers,  and  to  exalt  the  reputation  of  the  dead  at  their 
expense.  ‘‘  Chaucer’s  worst  ribaldry,”  he  instanced,  “ is 
learned  by  rote.”  If  Chaucer  wrote  ribaldry  at  all,  the 
remark  came  with  a peculiarly  ill  grace  from  one  who 
had  dragged  a portion  of  it  from  an  obscurity  in  which 
it  was  known  mainly  to  scholars,  and  made  it  accessible 
to  all  in  a modernized  version.  It  is  hardly  necessary 
to  say  that  there  is  no  justification  for  the  hostile  criti- 
cism either  in  the  character  of  what  was  written  about 
or  in  the  attention  paid  to  it  at  the  time.  Pope’s  asser- 
tion was  not  only  untrue,  but  he  knew  it  to  be  untrue. 
Men  were  not  then  learning  Chaucer’s  words  by  rote. 
Even  now  they  are  not  in  the  habit  of  doing  it  to  any 
great  extent. 

Yet  though  no  justification  exists  for  the  attack,  there 
may  be  found  for  it  perhaps  a certain  excuse,  or,  at  any 


236  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

rate,  explanation.  A vague  presentiment  of  the  coming 
change  may  have  been  at  the  root  of  the  feeling  which 
provoked  the  line;  for  the  whole  ‘ Epistle’  in  which  it  is 
contained  exhibits  a timid  as  well  as  a hostile  attitude 
of  mind.  The  poets  of  the  past  were  looming  up  larger 
and  larger  before  the  imaginations  of  men.  The  com- 
ing literary  revolution  had  begun  to  cast  its  shadow  long 
before  there  was  any  evidence  of  its  being  in  sight.  The 
feeble  beginnings  that  attended  this  new  revival  of  learn- 
ing unconsciously  inspired  dread.  In  the  movement 
then  gradually  taking  form  it  may  be  no  unwarranted 
extravagance  of  conjecture  which  fancies  that  Pope  may 
have  foreseen  the  influences  that  threatened  his  own 
downfall.  Not  that  the  consensus  of  all  critics  will  ever 
deprive  him  of  the  lofty  position  he  holds ; but  the  su- 
preme position  he  held  in  the  eighteenth  century  could 
not  forever  be  maintained.  There  may  have  been  on 
his  part  an  ill-defined  feeling  that  the  school  he  had 
founded  must  ultimately  go  down  before  this  growing 
taste  for  the  natural  in  poetry  as  distinguished  from  the 
purely  intellectual.  He  could  not  well  have  forecast  the 
strength  and  sweep  of  the  storm  that  was  slowly  gather- 
ing. Still,  with  the  prophetic  sensitiveness  of  genius,  he 
could  hardly  have  failed  to  be  conscious  of  the  fact  that 
it  was  in  the  air.  There  was,  therefore,  some  ground  for 
the  repugnance  he  evinced.  An  Eddaic  catastrophe  was 
to  involve  in  a general  ruin  the  poetic  creed  that  was 
then  accepted  and  the  poetic  system  that  was  estab- 
lished. It  was  not  in  the  nature  of  things  that  Pope 
should  look  with  absolute  favor  upon  the  giant  race 
of  elder  poets,  the  representatives  of  the  great  natural 


EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  OPINION  237 

forces,  through  whose  agency  the  impending  destruction 
was  largely  to  be  accomplished.  Nor  with  his  belief  in 
the  literary  superstitions  of  his  time  could  he  be  expect- 
ed to  anticipate  with  complacency  the  twilight  of  the 
gods  that  was  approaching,  or  to  have  faith  in  the  new 
heaven  and  the  new  earth  that  were  to  succeed. 

It  was  natural,  therefore,  that  Pope  should  occasion- 
ally sneer  at  the  antiquarian  taste  which,  slowly  as  it 
spread,  was  gradually  extending  the  knowledge  and 
raising  the  reputation  of  Chaucer.  At  the  same  time, 
there  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  genuineness  of  his  appre- 
ciation as  far  as  it  went.  This  is  something  that  can- 
not always  be  predicated  of  the  men  of  letters  of  that 
day  who  were  led,  for  various  reasons,  to  celebrate  the 
memory  of  the  poet.  The  testimonials  they  bore  to 
his  greatness  seem  often  to  partake  rather  of  the  nature 
of  a forced  tribute  than  of  a free-will  offering.  The 
purely  conventional  character  of  many  of  them  there 
has  been,  already  frequent  occasion  to  point  out.  The 
examples  could  be  easily  multiplied.  Such  an  inscrip- 
tion, for  instance,  as  Akenside  composed  for  a statue 
of  Chaucer  never  erected,  and  probably  never  intended 
to  be  erected,  at  Woodstock,  is  no  evidence  in  itself  of 
any  familiarity  with  the  author  in  whose  honor  it  was 
written.  It  is  merely  a literary  exercise  in  which  noth- 
ing more  is  done  than  to  repeat  what  it  was  the  fashion 
for  every  man  of  letters  of  any  position  to  say.  Even 
notices  of  such  a kind  are  likely  to  give  a wrong  im- 
pression of  the  feeling  entertained  about  the  poet,  out- 
side of  the  slowly  growing  but  yet  comparatively  lim- 
ited circle  of  those  who  appreciated  him  fully.  To  the 


238  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

great  mass  of  even  the  highly  educated  he  still  remained 
unknown.  They  continued  to  cherish  the  most  baseless 
of  the  convictions  in  regard  to  him  which  had  been  held 
by  the  immediate  past.  Not  content  with  simply  inherit- 
ing its  misapprehensions,  they  exaggerated  them.  Its  er- 
rors they  made  still  more  erroneous.  As  a consequence 
we  find  that  views  which  in  the  seventeenth  century 
had  been  the  views  of  a party  had  in  the  eighteenth 
become  the  views  of  nearly  everybody.  The  opinions 
originally  put  forth  as  probable  had  been  developed  into 
the  full  vigor  of  positive  statement,  and  were  expressed 
with  all  the  calm  and  confident  assurance  to  which  su- 
preme knowledge  or  supreme  ignorance  alone  can  attain. 
Chaucer’s  verse  was  declared  to  be  uncouth  and  inhar- 
monious. His  language  had  long  become  incomprehen- 
sible. His  fame,  so  far  as  it  could  be  said  to  exist, 
owed  its  preservation  to  the  pious  labors  of  Dryden 
and  Pope.  Even  in  spite  of  the  tales  modernized  by 
the  first  and  most  popular  of  these  two  translators,  he 
was  looked  upon  merely  as  a humorous  writer.  Per- 
haps it  would  be  more  correct  to  say  that  he  was  looked 
upon  as  a comic  writer.  It  is  certain  that  his  humor,  in- 
stead of  being  characterized  as  distinguished  for  lightness 
and  delicacy,  was  described  as  of  a coarse  and  barbar- 
ous nature.  It  was  of  a kind  that  could  appeal  only 
to  the  rude  tastes  of  a rude  age. 

Such  was,  at  that  time,  the  language  of  the  rank  and 
file  of  those  men  of  letters  who  are  in  the  habit  of  writ- 
ing volubly  about  matters  which  they  know  vaguely,  or 
not  at  all.  But  however  valueless  their  testimony  may 
be  in  itself,  it  is  always  valuable  for  the  reflection  it 


EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY  OPINION 


239 


furnishes  of  the  prevailing  uninformed  or  ill-informed 
current  opinion.  Such  it  is  in  this  instance.  There  is 
little  limit  to  the  misapprehension  then  expressed  or 
implied.  In  one  of  the  slighter  pieces  of  the  period 
the  poet  was  styled  “ boozy  Chaucer.”  The  generally 
received  belief  of  the  educated  class  of  the  middle  of 
the  eighteenth  century  is  adequately  depicted  in  a few 
verses  that  will  be  cited  from  a poem  published  anon- 
ymously in  1761.  It  is  entitled  ‘Woodstock  Park,  an 
Elegy,’  and  is  one  of  the  countless  imitations  that 
Gray’s  celebrated  production  called  into  being  during 
the  first  fifty  years  after  its  appearance.  A Scotchman 
named  Hugh  Dalrymple  has  the  credit,  such  as  it  is, 
of  being  its  author.  As  the  writer  was  celebrating  the 
glories  of  Woodstock,  it  was  inevitable  that  he  should 
drag  in  Chaucer.  It  is  in  the  following  lines  that  he 
gives  us  an  insight  into  the  character  of  the  work  he 
supposed  the  early  poet  produced,  and  of  the  fate  that 
had  already  overtaken  it : 

“ Old  Chaucer,  who  in  rough  unequal  verse 
Sung  quaint  allusion  and  facetious  tale  ; 

And  ever  as  his  jests  he  would  rehearse, 

Loud  peals  of  laughter  echoed  through  the  vale. 

^ sis  * * 

“ What  though  succeeding  poets,  as  they  sire,^ 

Revere  his  memory  and  approve  his  wit ; 

Though  Spenser’s  elegance  and  Dryden’s  fire 
His  name  to  ages  far  remote  transmit ; 

“ His  tuneless  numbers  hardly  now  survive 
As  ruins  of  a dark  and  Gothic  age  ; 

And  all  his  blithesome  tales  their  praise  derive 
From  Pope’s  immortal  song  and  Prior’s  page.” 

^ ? An  error  for  “ as  their  sire.” 


240  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

These  lines  confirm  the  opinion,  derived  from  other 
sources,  that  to  some  extent,  at  least,  the  existence  of 
modernizations,  and  the  belief  in  their  value,  had  a direct 
tendency  at  that  time  to  divert  men  from  the  study  of 
the  original.  Yet  it  was  only  by  this  latter  method 
that  knowledge  of  the  poet  could  be  substituted  for 
knowledge  about  him,  or  that  intelligent  appreciation, 
based  upon  sympathy,  could  be  aroused  and  maintained. 
It  was  therefore  unavoidable  that  in  a genuine  revival 
of  Chaucer’s  reputation  the  lead  should  be  taken  by 
scholars,  as  distinguished  from  men  of  letters.  The  in- 
terest in  the  poet  exhibited  by  the  latter  class  was  rarely 
based  upon  anything  but  the  most  superficial  acquaint- 
ance with  his  poetry.  Consequently,  like  the  seed  sown 
upon  stony  soil,  though  it  sprang  up  quickly,  it  as  quick- 
ly withered  away  because  it  had  no  depth  of  root.  At 
any  rate,  scholars  did  take  the  lead.  But  even  with 
them,  especially  with  those  given  up  to  the  study  of 
the  classics,  the  feeling  displayed  did  not  often  partake 
of  the  nature  of  enthusiasm.  There  was  on  their  part 
a kind  of  hesitation  as  to  the  propriety  of  devoting 
much  time  or  attention  to  one  of  the  greatest  of  Eng- 
lish writers.  They  talked  and  acted  as  if  such  a course 
was  not  altogether  in  accordance  with  the  dignity  of 
their  profession.  It  is  quite  in  contrast  with  the  self- 
complacency  they  would  have  exhibited  had  they  spent 
months  and  years  in  the*  elucidation  of  one  of  the  ob- 
scurest, or  in  the  celebration  of  one  of  the  most  con- 
temptible, of  Greek  or  Latin  authors.  “ This,  then,  has 
been  my  amusement  for  some  time,”  says  Dr.  Morell, 
in  1737,  the  preface  to  his  fragmentary  edition  of 


ANTIQUARIAN  INTEREST  IN  THE  POET  241 

Chaucer,  “ and  I hope  with  no  great  detriment  to  the 
more  severe  and  decent  studies  required  by  my  place 
and  character.  I believe  many  a leisure  hour  might 
have  been  spent  worse.”  It  was  not  the  men  who  could 
express  themselves  in  this  way  that  were  likely  to  in- 
spire others  with  a zeal  which  they  themselves  so  con- 
spicuously lacked. 

From  the  fact,  however,  that  the  study  of  Chaucer  in 
the  original  was  largely  confined  to  scholars,  it  was  also 
inevitable  that  part  of  the  reviving  interest  in  his  pro- 
ductions should  be  a result  of  the  reverence  paid  to  an- 
tiquity rather  than  to  poetry.  This,  naturally,  was  not 
always  the  best  way  to  extend  his  repute.  In  more 
than  one  instance  he  was  harmed  instead  of  helped  by 
the  indiscriminating  eulogiums  of  antiquaries.  Their 
want  of  appreciation  of  the  literature  that  everybody 
knew  tended  to  give  an  air  of  the  ridiculous  to  their  ap- 
preciation of  the  literature  that  nobody  knew.  By  them 
and  by  their  followers  spurious  work  and  inferior  work 
was  constantly  held  up  as  something  worthy  of  special 
admiration.  Estimates  of  this  sort  naturally  provoked 
dissent  from  men  who  might  not  fully  understand  verse 
that  was  archaic,  but  did  know  it  when  it  was  good ; and 
who  could  not  have  commonplace  thrust  upon  them 
as  an  exhibition  of  genius  because  it  chanced  to  be 
clothed  in  an  antique  garb.  Consequently,  the  old  fa- 
miliar story  of  the  feud  between  learning  and  letters, 
so  frequent  in  the  history  of  English  literature,  was  re- 
peated to  some  extent  in  the  case  of  Chaucer.  The 
scholars  had  usually  no  taste,  and  the  men  of  taste  had 
no  scholarship.  There  were  exceptions  to  this  rule. 
Ilk— 16 


242  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

however.  Some  men  of  learning,  who  were  also  men 
of  letters,  not  only  knew  the  ancient  poet  themselves, 
but  were  earnest  in  their  efforts  to  make  him  known  to 
others.  We  learn,  for  instance,  from  Hearne  that  an 
ardent  promoter  of  the  attempt  to  bring  out  the  edi- 
tion which  goes  under  the  name  of  Urry  was  Atter- 
bury,  then  dean  of  Christ  Church.* 

Here  it  may  be  remarked  that  one  of  the  earliest  ef- 
forts to  revive  the  knowledge  of  the  writers  of  the  past, 
including  Chaucer,  was  made  by  a woman.  It  was  in 
1737  that  Elizabeth  Cooper  published  specimens  of  the 
productions  of  several  of  these  in  a work  which,  on  its 
different  title-pages,  is  termed  either  ‘The  Historical 
and  Poetical  Medley’  or  ‘The  Muses’  Library.’  In 
this  undertaking  she  had  the  assistance  of  the  anti- 
quary Oldys ; but  as  the  book  appeared  under  her  own 
name,  it  is  the  barest  justice  to  hold  her  wholly  respon- 
sible for  its  character.  The  selections  contained  in  the 
volume  came  down  to  the  age  of  Elizabeth,  and  the 
concluding  ones  were  taken  from  the  poet  Daniel. 
The  ones  with  which  the  volumes  began  purported  to 
belong  to  the  eleventh  and  twelfth  centuries,  though 
the  language  shows  them  to  be  a good  deal  later. 
There  are  other  errors  to  be  found  in  the  book.  There 
also  appear,  of  course,  the  usual  remarks,  then  cur- 
rent, about  the  rudeness  and  imperfection  of  the  early 
tongue,  the  danger  that  beset  the  reputation  of  all  au- 
thors from  the  fluctuations  of  speech,  and  the  necessity 
of  an  academy.  Still,  I know  of  no  similar  work  pro- 
duced at  that  period  in  which  the  knowledge  displayed 

^ Reliquice  HerniancB,  2d  ed.  (London,  1869),  vol.  i.,  p.  243. 


INCREASING  INTEREST  IN  THE  POET 


243 


is  so  accurate  and  comprehensive,  or  the  critical  estimate 
so  uniformly  good  and  just.  There  was  exhibited  in  it 
not  merely  freshness  of  judgment,  but  the  independence 
that  springs  from  the  study  of  writers  at  first  hand.  Mrs. 
Cooper’s  praise  of  Chaucer,  though  sincere,  was  not  over- 
done. As  a specimen  of  his  powers  she  selected  the 
unworn  and  highly  characteristic  prologue  to  the  Par- 
. doner’s  tale.  The  reason  for  this  is  worth  giving,  as  fur- 
nishing additional  proof  of  the  general  belief  then  en- 
tertained as  to  the  superiority  of  Chaucer  translated  to 
Chaucer  in  the  original.  “ Most  of  his  principal  tales,” 
she  wrote,  “ have  been  already  exhausted  by  the  mod- 
erns, and  consequently  neither  of  them  would  appear  to 
advantage  in  their  antiquated  original  dress.” 

This  work  was,  however,  too  far  in  advance  of  the 
time  to  meet  with  any  popular  success.  A continuation 
of  it,  which  had  been  projected,  was  never  brought  out. 
The  single  volume  published  was  more  than  enough  for 
the  men  of  that  generation.  These  were  too  well  sat- 
isfied with  their  own  merit  to  give  much  heed  to  any 
merit  which  enthusiasts  might  fancy  to  exist  in  the  past. 
Still,  the  intelligent  study  of  Chaucer  was  steadily  gain- 
ing ground.  A special  criticism  made  by  one  scholar 
deserves  notice  here  for  this  reason  rather  than  for  any 
particular  value  we  need  attach  to  his  estimate  of  the 
poet.  It  occurs  in  the  writings  of  Bishop  Hurd.  His 
work  entitled  ‘ Letters  on  Chivalry  and  Romance  ’ was 
originally  published  in  1762.  It  is  the  first,  so  far  as  I 
am  able  to  discover,  to  bring  out  distinctly  the  truth  that 
the  tale  of  Sir  Thopas  was  meant  to  be  taken  ironically 
and  not  seriously;  that  in  it  Chaucer  anticipated  Cervan- 


244 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


tes  in  satirizing  the  stories  of  chivalry,  though  in  his  case 
it  is  not  so  much  the  adventures  of  the  knights-errant 
that  are  held  up  to  ridicule  as  the  manner  in  which  they 
had  been  recounted.  Hurd  does  not  profess  to  have  dis- 
covered the  fact  for  himself.  It  had  been  pointed  out 
to  him  years  before  by  some  one  whose  name  he  does 
not  mention.  He  confesses  his  surprise  when  he  learned 
that  the  poet  of  so  early  a period,  when  chivalry  was 
still  flourishing,  could  have  discerned  the  absurdity  of 
the  old  romances,  and  have  deliberately  made  them  the 
subject  of  banter.  The  context,  once  carefully  consid- 
ered, leaves  not  the  slightest  doubt  of  the  fact.  Yet  it 
seems  scarcely  to  have  been  suspected  by  any  one  for 
centuries ; though  in  this  matter  we  may  easily  con- 
found the  failure  to  perceive  with  the  failure  to  record. 
Sir  Thomas  Wyatt’s  observation  in  his  poem  on  the 
‘ Courtier’s  Life,’  that  he  was  not  one  to 

" Praise  Sir  Topas  for  a noble  tale, 

And  scorn  the  story  that  the  Knight  told,” 

may  perhaps  be  taken  to  show  that  the  character  of 
this  particular  piece  had  long  before  been  appreciated 
by  some  as  well  as  misunderstood  by  most. 

It  is  the  observations  contained  in  Thomas  Warton’s 
‘ History  of  English  Poetry’  that  denote  the  high-water 
mark  of  the  eighteenth-century  judgment  of  Chaucer. 
To  the  oldest  writers  of  English  literature  Warton  was 
attracted  both  by  the  bent  of  his  mind  and  the  nat- 
ure of  his  studies.  In  the  first  critical  work  he  pro- 
duced— the  ‘ Observations  on  the  Faerie  Queene  of 
Spenser,’  which  came  out  in  1754 — he  took  occasion  to 


WARTON  ON  CHAUCER 


245 


deplore  the  then  prevalent  indifference  to  the  writings 
of  the  earliest  of  our  great  poets.  His  words  still  have 
a good  deal  of  interest  for  the  light  they  throw  upon 
contemporary  opinion.  “ I cannot  dismiss  this  section,” 
he  said,  “ without  a wish  that  this  neglected  author, 
whom  Spenser  proposed  as  the  pattern  of  his  style,  and 
to  whom  he  is  indebted  for  many  noble  inventions, 
should  be  more  universally  studied.  This  is  at  least 
what  one  might  expect  in  an  age  of  research  and  curi- 
osity. Chaucer  is  regarded  rather  as  an  old  than  as  a 
good  poet.  We  look  upon  his  poems  as  venerable  rel- 
ics, not  as  beautiful  compositions;  as  pieces  better  cal- 
culated to  gratify  the  antiquarian  than  the  critic.  He 
abounds  not  only  in  strokes  of  humor,  which  is  common- 
ly supposed  to  be  his  sole  talent,  but  of  pathos  and  sub- 
limity not  unworthy  a more  refined  age.  His  old  man- 
ners, his  romantic  arguments,  his  wildness  of  painting,  his 
simplicity  and  antiquity  of  expression,  transport  us  into 
some  fairy  region,  and  are  all  highly  pleasing  to  the  im- 
agination. It  is  true  that  his  uncouth  and  unfamiliar 
language  disgusts  and  deters  many  readers  ; but  the  prin- 
cipal reason  of  his  being  so  little  known,  and  so  seldom 
taken  into  hand,  is  the  convenient  opportunity  of  read- 
ing him  with  pleasure  and  facility  in  modern  imitations.” 

Both  the  progress  of  appreciation  and  the  lack  of  full 
appreciation  are  clearly  discernible  in  this  passage.  The 
feelings  that  inspired  the  view  pervading  it  are  displayed 
still  more  fully  in  the  chapters  of  Warton’s  ‘ History  ’ 
that  are  devoted  to  Chaucer.  It  was  twenty  years  later 
— that  is,  in  1774  — that  the  volume  containing  these 
appeared.  After  that  time  a new  order  of  things  set  in. 


246  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

and  new  ways  of  looking  at  the  early  poet  began  to  pre- 
vail. But  these  chapters  will  always  be  of  interest  and 
value  for  the  information  they  give  us  of  the  sentiments 
of  the  transition  period  through  which  Chaucer’s  rep- 
utation was  now  passing.  Warton’s  criticisms,  though 
in  the  main  following  the  old  lines,  showed  plainly  the 
greatness  of  the  advance  in  knowledge  that  had  been 
made.  It  is  the  work  of  a man  who  had  read  the  writ- 
ings of  which  he  spoke,  and  not  merely  read  about 
them.  His  selection  of  passages  for  commendation, 
and  of  passages  characteristic  of  the  poet’s  style,  were 
usually  taken  from  the  genuine  productions,  and  not,  as 
had  often  been  the  case,  from  those  which  are  now  rec- 
ognized as  spurious.  The  praise,  moreover,  which  he 
bestowed  was  so  hearty  that  it  excited  comment,  and 
in  some  instances  dissent.  I have  already  mentioned 
how  Walpole’s  feelings  were  outraged  by  the  prefer- 
ence apparently  exhibited — for  nothing  of  that  nature 
is  openly  expressed — for  the  originals  of  Chaucer  to  the 
modernizations  of  Pope,  and  even  of  Dryden.  Warton 
also  added  much  matter  illustrative  of  the  poet’s  com- 
positions, to  which  all  succeeding  writers  have  been 
under  obligation.  His  work,  indeed,  is  one  which  it 
will  perhaps  be  always  necessary  to  consult  for  its 
facts,  its  references,  and  its  inferences;  and  though  in 
many  points  it  needs  to  be  corrected,  a long  time  will 
certainly  elapse  before  it  will  be  superseded. 

All  this  can  be  said,  and  be  said  truly.  But  while  the 
substantial  merits  of  the  chapters  on  Chaucer  need  not 
be  denied,  they  are  very  far  from  being  perfectly  satis- 
factory. They  were  marked  in  particular  by  the  defects 


WARTON  ON  CHAUCER 


247 


which  invariably  characterized  the  writings  of  both  the 
Wartons.  In  certain  ways  these  two  scholars  were  the 
most  irritating  of  commentators  and  literary  critics. 
Their  object  was  never  so  much  to  illustrate  their  author 
as  to  illustrate  themselves.  Instances  of  this  disposition 
occur  constantly  in  those  sections  of  the  ‘ History  of 
English  Poetry’  which  treat  of  Chaucer.  Warton  is 
constantly  wandering  away  from  his  legitimate  subject 
to  furnish  information  about  matters  that  concerned 
very  remotely,  if  at  all,  the  business  in  hand.  Much  of 
the  material  he  collected  is  introduced  not  to  throw  light 
upon  the  question  under  consideration,  but  to  parade  his 
knowledge.  Still,  it  is  the  spirit  that  pervades  the  work 
which  is  especially  objectionable.  About  it  lingered  the 
apologetic  air  of  the  eighteenth  century,  which  talked 
as  if  it  had  something  of  a contempt  for  itself  for  taking 
interest  in  an  age  when  neither  language  nor  poetry  had 
reached  the  supreme  elegance  by  which  both  were  then 
distinguished.  Warton’s  words  make  upon  the  mind 
the  impression  that  he  admired  Chaucer  greatly,  and 
was  ashamed  of  himself  for  having  been  caught  in  the 
act.  Whenever  he  abandons  conventionally  accepted 
ground,  we  recognize  at  once  the  timid  utterance  of  the 
man  who  feels  called  upon  to  put  in  a plea  in  extenua- 
tion of  the  appreciation  he  has  manifested.  At  the  very 
outset  we  are  treated  to  a‘ specimen  of  that  sort  of  criti- 
cal comment  which  is  never  able  to  stand  alone,  but 
must  always  bolster  itself  upon  the  crutches  of  other 
people’s  opinions.  Warton  probably  knew  more  about 
the  early  writers  of  our  speech  than  any  man  then  liv- 
ing. His  authority  on  the  subject  was  certainly  at  that 


248  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

time  reckoned  supreme.  Yet  he  felt  it  necessary  to  sum- 
mon to  his  support  men  whose  views  in  this  matter  were 
of  scarcely  any  authority  at  all.  He  began  his  account  of 
Chaucer  with  the  remark  that  this  early  writer  had  been 
“ pronounced  by  a critic  of  unquestionable  taste  and  dis- 
cernment ” — by  whom  he  meant  Dr.  Johnson — “to  be 
the  first  English  versifier  who  wrote  poetically.” 

Most  disappointing  of  all,  however,  was  the  currency 
he  gave  to  the  foolish  and  misleading  criticism  which 
discussed  the  poet  in  the  same  style,  and  judged  him  ac- 
cording to  the  same  standard,  in  which  and  by  which 
Shakspeare  had  been  treated  and  tried  when  he  was 
termed  by  Voltaire  a drunken  savage,  and  by  Diderot 
a rough-hewn  Colossus.  The  tone,  it  is  true,  was  alto- 
gether more  respectful,  but  the  general  nature  of  the 
comment  was  the  same.  Of  the  ‘ House  of  Fame  ’ 
Warton  tells  us  that  it  contains  “ great  strokes  of  Gothic 
imagination,  yet  bordering  often  on  the  most  ideal  and 
capricious  extravagance.”  In  discoursing  upon  the 
Knight’s  tale  he  speaks  of  the  tremendous  passage  which 
describes  the  Temple  of  Mars  in  precisely  the  same  spirit. 
“ This  group,”  he  writes,  “ is  the  effort  of  a strong  im- 
agination unacquainted  with  the  selection  and  arrange- 
ment of  images.  It  is  rudely  thrown  upon  the  canvas 
without  order  or  art.”  The  form  of  Mars  which  follows 
is  said  to  be  “ touched  with  the  impetuous  dashes  of  a 
savage  and  spirited  pencil.”  The  portrait  of  Lycurgus, 
the  King  of  Thrace,  in  the  same  piece,  “ is  highly  charged, 
and  very  great  in  the  Gothic  style  of  painting.”  Warton 
was  once,  indeed,  led  away  by  his  enthusiasm  to  remark 
that  a description  of  the  morning  in  Chaucer  vied  “ both 


WARTON  ON  CHAUCER 


249 


in  sentiment  and  expression  with  the  most  finished 
modern  poetical  landscapes.”  He  doubtless  felt  that 
praise  had  been  exhausted  in  this  extravagant  utterance. 

Warton,  in  fact,  much  as  he  had  studied  the  earlier 
writers  of  our  tongue,  was  not  fitted  to  appreciate  them 
fully  or  to  criticise  them  justly.  In  his  own  writings  he 
was  nothing  more  than  a reputable  representative  of 
that  second-rate  imitativeness  which  in  the  eighteenth 
century  was  sometimes  looked  upon  as  the  first  order 
of  art.  The  poetry  he  produced  as  well  as  the  poetry 
he  was  inclined  to  prefer  is  at  best  a poetry  of  recollec- 
tion rather  than  of  originality.  In  those  who  are  not 
familiar  with  the  sources  from  which  it  is  taken  or  by 
which  it  is  inspired  it  seldom  awakens  any  responsive 
chord.  It  had  no  creative  power.  It  looked,  therefore, 
with  suspicion,  if  not  with  repugnance,  upon  creative 
power  that  displayed  itself  in  methods  to  which  it  was 
unaccustomed.  Warton  had  much  to  say  of  the  prefer- 
ence for  Statius  to  Virgil  exhibited  by  the  men  of  the 
Middle  Ages.  He  implied  that  it  was  the  swelling  phrase 
of  the  former  author  that  caught  their  fancy  as  contrasted 
with  the  quiet  beauty  of  the  latter.  Whatever  truth  may 
be  in  the  assertion  generally,  we  know  it  to  be  untrue  in 
the  case  of  Chaucer,  whose  admiration  for  the  foremost 
Latin  poet  is  expressed  unequivocally,  and  whose  famil- 
iarity with  his  greatest  work  is  displayed  in  numerous 
passages.  The  nature  of  the  comment,  however,  gives 
us  a glimpse  of  the  nature  of  Warton’s  mind.  Some  men 
put  restraint  upon  expression  because  they  have  so 
much  to  say ; others  exhibit  it  because  they  have  so  lit- 
tle. To  this  latter  class  he  belonged.  His  ideas  were 


250  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

tame,  his  method  of  enforcing  them  was  still  tamer. 
His  objection  to  swelling  phrases  sprang  from  weakness 
and  not  from  strength.  It  never  occurred  to  him  that 
timidity  of  expression  was  no  more  respectable  than 
tumidity,  and  was  much  less  promising.  His  narrow 
canons  of  taste  led  him,  in  consequence,  to  use  unde- 
signedly  a patronizing  tone,  when  speaking  of  the  poet, 
which  is  singularly  out  of  place.  In  his  eyes  Chaucer  is 
a Goth — a Goth  of  genius,  to  be  sure — but  still  a Goth. 
Being  a Goth,  he  had  not  the  severe  self-restraint  of  the 
moderns,  their  chastity  of  diction,  their  propriety  of 
manner;  in  fine,  their  art. 

The  constant  use  of  the  words  Goth  and  Gothic  de- 
mands perhaps  a word  of  explanation.  In  the  litera- 
ture of  the  eighteenth  century  these  epithets  played 
about  the  same  role  that  the  word  Philistine  plays,  or 
has  begun  to  play,  in  this.  They  expressed  a general 
disapprobation  without  putting  the  one  who  employed 
them  under  the  necessity  of  substantiating  what  he 
meant  by  any  precise  definition.  To  call  a man  a Goth 
conveyed  a vague  sense  of  superiority  on  the  part  of  him 
who  uttered  it,  and  a general  sense  of  the  disreputability 
of  him  about  whom  it  was  uttered  ; and  it  was  made  the 
harder  to  endure  and  the  more  potent  to  crush  because 
the  man  who  applied  it  did  not  usually  understand  what 
was  meant  by  it  any  more  than  did  the  man  to  whom  it 
was  applied.  It  inevitably  became  in  time  the  refuge 
of  critical  imbecility.  With  that  the  sense  of  shame 
attaching  to  it  gradually  disappeared.  Gothic  is  now 
a complimentary  epithet  rather  than  a disparaging  one. 
Even  in  Warton’s  time  it  had  begun  to  lose,  in  fact  it 


WARTON  ON  CHAUCER 


25 


had  almost  lost,  the  suggestion  of  reproach  it  had  origi- 
nally conveyed.  Hurd  had  laboriously  defended  what 
it  signified,  or  what  he  supposed  it  signified.  Walpole, 
in  his  ‘ Castle  of  Otranto,’  had  founded  a school  of  ro- 
mance-writing which  he  dubbed  with  its  name.  It  was 
therefore  well  along  on  the  road  to  honor.  The  proc- 
ess is  now  repeating  itself  in  the  case  of  the  modern 
word  which  in  some  senses  has  taken  its  place ; and 
when  we  consider  how  much  superior  the  men  who  are 
termed  Philistines  usually  are  to  the  men  who  so  term 
them,  we  need  not  doubt  that  the  latter  epithet  is  also 
destined  in  time  to  become  a title  of  special  respect. 

There  is  one  other  view  which  Warton  expressed 
about  Chaucer  and  his  period  that  deserves  consider- 
ation. Still,  though  it  found  a place  in  his  ‘ History,’ 
he  was  neither  the  first  nor  the  last  to  give  it  utterance. 
This  is  to  the  effect  that  the  poet  was  in  a great  meas- 
ure hampered  by  the  barbarous  character  of  the  time 
and  of  the  language.  That  Chaucer  was  hampered  by 
the  fact  that  he  had  no  great  literary  models  in  his  own 
speech  to  follow  is  unquestionable.  It  is  likewise  true 
that  he  had  personally  to  create  the  melody  which  he 
exemplified,  and  that  this  task  was  one  which  must  have 
required  for  its  accomplishment  patience  and  labor  as 
well  as  genius.  But  these  were  not  the  sort  of  obstacles 
that  men  had  in  mind.  It  was  not  the  difficulty  of 
moulding  an  uncultivated  language  into  form  that  was 
suggested,  but  an  incapacity  inherent  at  the  time  in  the 
language  itself  to  be  reduced  to  form  or  to  find  suitable 
expression  for  thought.  There  was  widely  prevalent  a 
singular  belief  in  the  gradual  improvement  of  poetry 


252  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

from  age  to  age.  Its  first  attempts,  according  to  this 
view,  must  be,  comparatively  speaking,  a failure.  Its 
notes  must  be  artless  and  untuneful.  Never  was  a more 
untenable  doctrine  held.  A certain  grade  of  develop- 
ment is,  without  doubt,  necessary  to  a language  before  it 
can  adapt  itself  to  the  purposes  of  the  highest  poetry ; 
but  that  development  takes  place  at  a very  early  period 
in  its  history.  When  once  it  has  come  to  pass,  genius, 
which  always  starts  out  full-grown,  finds  in  it  a perfect 
instrument  of  expression.  Yet,  though  the  history  of 
almost  every  literature  furnishes  satisfactory  proof  of  the 
falsity  of  the  belief  that  has  been  mentioned,  it  was  one 
which  for  a long  time  seems  to  have  held  complete 
sway  over  men  in  regard  to  the  English  literature  of  the 
fourteenth  century.  Even  where  appreciation  existed, 
surprise  was  always  manifested  that  poetry  so  good 
could  have  been  written  so  early.  We  find  this  feeling 
exhibited  by  Sir  Philip  Sidney.  “Truly  I know  not,” 
he  says  of  Chaucer,  “ whether  to  marvel  more,  either 
that  he  in  that  misty  time  saw  so  clearly,  or  that  we  in 
this  clear  age  walk  so  stumblingly  after  him.”  ^ Dryden, 
as  we  have  seen,  tells  us  that  he  had  added  something 
of  his  own  in  his  modernizations  when  he  thought  Chau- 
cer had  not  given  his  thoughts  their  true  lustre  “ for 
want  of  words  in  the  beginning  of  our  language.”  “ We 
are  surprised,”  writes  Warton,  “ to  find  in  a poet  of  such 
antiquity  numbers  so  nervous  and  flowing.”  Even  as 
late  an  author  as  Southey  comes  in  to  the  support  of 
this  fallacy.  “ Surely  Chaucer,”  he  wrote  to  Landor  in 
i8i  I,  “ is  as  much  a poet  as  it  was  possible  for  him  to  be 


* Apology  for  Poetry  (Arber’s  reprint),  p.  62. 


GROWTH  OF  APPRECIATION 


253 


while  the  language  was  in  so  rude  a state.”*  That  views 
of  this  sort  should  be  held  is  not  perhaps  very  strange ; 
what  is  strange  is  to  find  them  held  by  men  of  ability. 
Fancy  a body  of  Alexandrine  Greek  critics  deploring  the 
barbarousness  of  the  time  in  which  Homer  flourished, 
and  imputing  it  to  him  as  an  additional  merit  that  he  had 
triumphed  over  the  rudeness  of  the  speech  in  which  he 
wrote ! 

With  Warton  we  do  not  take  leave  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  but  we  do  of  its  distinctive  ideas.  Not  that 
they  failed  to  survive  to  a later  period.  But  they 
henceforth  ceased  to  dominate  to  any  marked  extent 
the  higher  order  of  minds  ; and  it  is  in  the  influence  a 
great  author  exerts  over  these  that  the  history  of  liter- 
ary reputation  is  to  be  traced.  Juster  appreciation  was 
speedily  to  follow  from  fuller  knowledge.  It  was  from 
the  lack  of  knowledge,  and  not  from  the  lack  of  intelli- 
gence, that  Chaucer’s  fame  had  mainly  suffered  in  the 
eighteenth  century.  There  are  certain  characteristics 
of  his  writings  with  which  the  men  of  that  age  would 
have  been  in  fullest  sympathy,  had  they  been  sufficient- 
ly familiar  with  his  language  to  understand  them.  Per- 
haps it  would  not  be  out  of  the  way  to  assert  that  they 
would  have  been  in  fuller  sympathy  with  them  than 
the  men  of  most  periods.  The  clearness  and  ease  which 
distinguish  the  early  poet’s  work,  the  uniformly  low 
level  upon  which  he  moves,  the  utter  absence  of  shock 
and  strain,  the  indefinable  charm  and  geniality  of  his 
manner,  would  have  specially  recommended  him  to  the 
favor  of  that  large  body  of  cultivated  readers  then  liv- 


^ Southey's  Life  and  Correspondence,  vol.  iii.,  p.  295. 


254  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

ingwho  had  been  trained  under  the  influence  of  French 
literature,  were  largely  swayed  by  its  canons  of  taste, 
and  felt  most  keenly  the  attractiveness  of  its  methods 
of  expression.  To  their  appreciation  he  was  specially 
fitted  to  appeal.  For  in  those  qualities  in  which  that 
literature  excels,  Chaucer  has  come  nearer  to  it  than 
any  other  author  of  our  tongue.  Its  lightness,  its  grace, 
the  perfect  proportion  of  part  to  part,  the  perfection  of 
finish,  the  delicacy  yet  brilliancy  of  touch,  the  archness 
of  the  satire  as  contrasted  with  the  downright  English 
directness,  the  exquisite  bonhomie — all  these,  which  su- 
premely characterize  the  finest  French  art,  are  the  very 
traits  which  distinguish  Chaucer  most  from  the  other 
writers  of  our  speech.  But  these  qualities  were  hidden 
from  the  men  who  would  best  have  enjoyed  them,  be- 
cause knowledge  of  them  could  only  be  gained  by  a 
fuller  study  than  they  had  the  disposition  to  bestow  or 
the  facilities  to  carry  on  ; while  the  things  that  repelled 
them — especially  the  disregard  of  what  they  called  pro- 
priety— lay  upon  the  surface,  and  could  not  miss  being 
seen  by  the  most  careless. 

It  was  the  publication,  in  1775,  of  Tyrwhitt’s  edition 
of  the  ‘Canterbury  Tales’  that  heralded  the  coming  of 
a new  order  of  things.  It  needs  a thorough  familiarity 
with  eighteenth-century  comment,  of  which  I have  given 
a few  examples,  to  realize  fully  from  what  a body  of 
misconception  of  all  sorts  that  great  scholar  rescued  the 
reputation  of  the  poet.  For  the  first  time  since  the 
invention  of  printing  Chaucer  appeared  in  a proper 
light  before  his  countrymen.  A text  was  furnished 
which,  however  unsatisfactory  to  the  requirements  of 


INFLUENCE  OF  TYRWHITT 


255 


modern  linguistic  science,  has  comparatively  little  to 
dread  from  any  purely  literary  comparison.  The  im- 
petus which  Tyrwhitt  gave  to  the  study  of  the  poet 
never  ceased  to  operate  from  the  time  it  was  first  set 
in  motion.  Its  beginnings,  it  is  true,  were  small.  It 
was  not  until  1798  that  the  second  edition  of  his  work 
was  published  by  Oxford  University.  But  long  before 
that  time  his  text  had  been  pirated  by  Bell.  It  had 
also  been  embodied  in  the  collection  of  English  poetry 
made  by  Dr.  Anderson.  After  the  beginning  of  the 
present  century  reprints  of  it  were  numerous,  and  by 
the  middle  of  it  the  ‘ Canterbury  Tales  ’ had  been  made 
accessible  to  every  one  in  a large  number  of  cheap  forms. 

The  various  services  which  Tyrwhitt  rendered  to  the 
study  of  the  poet  have  been  noticed  in  their  appropriate 
places  in  this  work.  Here  it  is  only  necessary  to  speci- 
fy one  particularly.  It  was  he  who  first  effectually  laid 
the  ghost  of  the  most  persistent  error  that  haunted  the 
men  of  the  eighteenth  century.  This  was  the  doctrine 
of  the  irregularity  and  uncouthness  of  Chaucer’s  versi- 
fication. A glimmering  of  the  truth  about  this  subject 
had  been  caught  by  Urry.  It  dawned  with  a little  more 
distinctness  upon  the  mind  of  Morell.  After  a vague 
fashion,  it  subsequently  became  known  to  other  schol- 
ars. But  the  real  facts  in  the  matter  had  never  been 
fully  and  precisely  stated.  They  had  never  affected  in 
the  slightest  the  general  opinion,  for  they  had  never 
been  brought  out  in  a way  that  could  be  comprehended 
by  all.  This  it  was  Tyrwhitt’s  distinction  to  do.  The 
theory  of  Chaucer’s  versification  he  set  forth  with  a 
clearness  and  force  that  carried  with  it  at  once  almost 


256  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

universal  conviction  of  its  truth.  In  the  application 
of  it  he  made  mistakes,  owing  to  the  then  pardonable 
lack  of  acquaintance  with  the  earlier  grammatical  forms 
of  our  tongue.  But  the  principle  upon  which  the  read- 
ing of  Chaucer’s  verse  rested  he  established  so  firmly 
that  it  henceforth  required  incapacity  to  miss  it,  or  per- 
versity of  judgment  to  refuse  to  accept  it.  Errors  of 
detail  it  is  now  easy  to  point  out.  But  the  value  of  the 
work  he  accomplished  will  be  denied  least  of  all  by 
those  who  are  aware  how  great  an  obstacle  to  the  ap- 
preciation of  Chaucer  and  to  the  extension  of  his  repu- 
tation was  the  belief  in  the  ruggedness  of  his  versifica- 
tion which  the  eighteenth  century  cherished  almost  re- 
ligiously. 

On  that  point  the  critical  estimate  had  remained 
about  the  same  as  that  which  Dryden  had  adopted 
and  established.  The  early  poet’s  ore,  to  use  the  simile 
of  that  author,  was  purest  gold ; but  it  was  not  only 
debased  by  admixture,  it  was  incrusted  with  rough  earth. 
All  through  the  eighteenth  century  there  are  constant 
references  to  the  homeliness  of  his  diction  and  the 
lameness  of  his  versification.  Even  in  our  own  cen- 
tury there  have  been  found  professed  students  of  our 
early  literature  to  talk  of  the  rudeness  and  imperfection 
of  his  metre.  But  what  is  now  a sporadic  utterance 
was  then  the  accepted  doctrine.  There  is  scarcely  a 
single  comment  upon  Chaucer  made  in  the  first  three 
quarters  of  the  last  century  that  does  not  either  assert 
or  imply  that  his  verse  was  rough  and  uncouth.  More 
than  one  piece  of  testimony  to  this  effect  has  already 
been  given.  With  rudeness  of  versification  was  also 


VIEWS  OVERTHROWN  BY  TYRWHITT  257 

joined,  in  their  eyes,  obscurity  of  meaning.  The  whole 
critical  attitude  of  the  men  of  that  time  can  perhaps  be 
fairly  conveyed  by  the  quotation  of  a single  stanza  con- 
tained in  a poem  written  by  Robert  Lloyd,  the  friend 
of  Churchill.  This  was  one  of  the  numerous  imitations 
of  Spenser,  then  the  fashion  to  produce,  and  was  pub- 
lished in  1751.  Its  title  was  ‘The  Progress  of  Envy;’ 
for  it  was  occasioned  by  the  exposure  of  the  forgery  of 
Lauder  in  his  attack  upon  the  originality  of  Milton.  It 
is  in  the  following  way  that  Lloyd  spoke  of  the  early 
poet.  In  its  comment  upon  the  simplicity  of  his  style, 
the  rudeness  of  his  verse,  and  the  obscurity  of  his  lan- 
guage, we  find  embodied  in  brief  space  the  common 
and  the  most  favorable  view  then  current : 

“ Not  far  from  these,  Dan  Chaucer,  ancient  wight, 

A lofty  seat  on  Mount  Parnassus  held. 

Who  long  had  been  the  Muses’  chief  delight ; 

His  reverend  locks  were  silvered  o’er  with  eld  ; 

Grave  was  his  visage  and  his  habit  plain  ; 

And  while  he  sung,  fair  nature  he  displayed. 

In  verse  albeit  uncouth  and  simple  strain  ; 

Ne  mote  he  well  be  seen,  so  thick  the  shade 
Which  elms  and  aged  oaks  had  all  around  him  made.” 

The  blundering  of  men  of  letters  without  learning  and 
the  boorishness  of  scholars  without  taste  had  united 
to  confer  upon  Chaucer  this  utterly  unwarranted  and 
discreditable  reputation  for  ruggedness  of  versification. 
Such  was  the  force  of  this  feeling  that  this  assumed 
rudeness  began  under  the  stress  of  antiquarian  study  to 
be  looked  upon  as  a virtue,  and  was  seriously  praised 
as  a positive  proof  of  merit.  We  have  had  already  one 
III.— 17 


258 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


illustration  of  this  view.  In  the  lines  quoted  from  Har- 
rison, the  majesty  of  Chaucer’s  muse  is  supposed  to 
disdain  the  trivialities  of  cadence  and  sound.  Old 
honest  Clytus,”  we  are  told,  “scorns  a Persian  dress.”’ 
A little  later,  the  antiquary  John  Dart,  in  a poem  on 
Westminster  Abbey,  gave  expression  to  the  same  opin- 
ion. He  re-echoed  the  sentiment  of  Dryden’s  lines  that 
to  Chaucer  the  Greek  and  the  Roman  bard  must  give 
place ; and  then  proceeded  to  pay  him  a compliment 
of  this  equivocal  sort : 

“ His  rough  bold  strokes,  with  rude  unpolished  pride, 
Art’s  curious  touch  and  nicest  care  deride.” 

No  one  ever  thought  of  praising  Homer  and  Virgil  after 
this  fashion.  That  any  one  ever  did  so  praise  Chaucer  is 
nothing  more  than  an  evidence  of  the  occasional  triumph 
of  matter  over  mind.  For  it  is  essential  to  the  adop- 
tion of  such  a theory  that  supposed  learning  must  over- 
balance actual  taste. 

A belief  like  this  naturally  died  away  as  the  truth 
brought  out  by  Tyrwhitt  became  better  and  better 
known.  With  it  disappeared  one  of  the  greatest  ob- 
stacles that  had  hindered  the  full  recognition  of  the 
early  poet’s  greatness.  But  besides  the  removal  of  this 
stumbling-block  new  and  powerful  positive  agencies  were 
coming  in  to  advance  the  interest  taken  in  his  writings. 
The  great  intellectual  movement  which  began  towards 
the  close  of  the  last  century  was  largely  a revolt  against 
the  dominant  ideas  that  had  long  prevailed  in  literature. 
One  of  its  immediate  results  was  to  lift  Chaucer  into  a 


’ See  page  106. 


POPULARITY  IN  THE  GEORGIAN  PERIOD  259 

position  of  special  prominence,  not  with  the  mass  of  even 
educated  men,  to  be  sure,  but  with  the  leaders  of  this 
literary  revolt  that  was  marching  on  its  way  to  success- 
ful revolution.  As  the  poet  of  naturalness  he  appealed 
most  strongly  to  the  pioneers  in  this  revival.  He  was 
one  of  the  few  authors  whom  Wordsworth  read  con- 
stantly ; one  of  the  exceedingly  few  to  whom  he  felt 
and  admitted  inferiority.  Southey’s  admiration  was  ex- 
pressed with  a frequency  that  compelled  him  to  repeat 
on  numerous  occasions  the  same  sentiments  in  almost 
the  same  words.  “ Chaucer,”  he  writes,  “ stands  in  the 
first  rank  with  Spenser,  Shakspeare  and  Milton : and  in 
variety  of  power  Shakspeare  is  his  only  peer.”^  Cole- 
ridge shared  fully  in  the  feelings  of  his  friends.  His  re- 
gard for  the  poet  was  one  which  he  continued  to  hold 
till  the  end  of  his  life.  “I  take  unceasing  delight  in 
Chaucer,”  he  said  in  1834.  “ His  manly  cheerfulness  is 

especially  delicious  to  me  in  my  old  age.  How  exquis- 
itely tender  he  is,  and  yet  how  perfectly  free  from  the . 
least  touch  of  sickly  melancholy  or  morbid  drooping !”“ 
There  is,  in  fact,  scarcely  a prominent  writer  of  the 
later  Georgian  period  who  has  not  somewhere  given 
testimony  of  his  admiration  and  appreciation  of  Chau- 
cer. It  varies,  as  might  be  expected,  in  character  and 
intensity.  Some  of  the  criticism  with  which  it  was  ac- 
companied will  strike  the  men  of  to-day  as  singularly  in- 
adequate. This  is  particularly  the  case  with  the  com- 
ments of  Scott  and  of  Campbell.  Some,  moreover,  of 
the  tributes  paid  are  paid  in  the  most  perfunctory  man- 
ner. They  read  like  the  utterances  of  persons  not  too 

^ Life  of  Cowper,  vol.  ii.,  p.  121  (1836).  ^ Table  Talk,  March  15,  1834. 


26o 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


familiar  with  what  they  are  writing  about,  and  give  the 
impression  that  their  authors  are  making  believe  very 
hard  to  like  out  of  deference  to  the  opinions  of  those 
whom  they  recognize  to  be  better  judges  than  them- 
selves. Still,  this  exhibition  of  deference  is  evidence 
that  the  poet  had  now  won  such  hold  over  the  higher 
class  of  minds  that  it  was  felt  incumbent  to  profess  re- 
spect for  him,  even  if  one  did  not  profess  admiration. 
We  need  not  waste  time  and  thought  upon  this  half- 
hearted appreciation  from  which  all  authors  will  suffer 
as  long  as  there  is  diversity  of  taste  among  men.  There 
was  plenty  of  enthusiasm  then  exhibited  for  Chaucer 
outside  of  utterances  of  this  sort.  There  had  come  like- 
wise to  be  a general  agreement  in  the  recognition  given 
to  his  greatness.  To  this  chorus  of  approbation  there 
was  one  noteworthy  exception  in  the  case  of  Byron. 
Far  too  much,  however,  has  been  made  of  his  words. 
A weight  has  been  assigned  to  them  at  which  he  him- 
self could  hardly  have  failed  to  be  astounded.  For  the 
views  expressed  by  him  are  the  views  of  a mere  boy  who 
stands  ready  to  settle  all  questions  of  taste,  and  solve  all 
problems  in  statesmanship  and  morals  with  the  unhesi- 
tating confidence  of  bright  but  bumptious  youth.  His 
observations  upon  Chaucer  occur  in  the  entry  of  a mem- 
orandum book  of  the  works  he  had  read  at  the  time  it 
was  written.  It  belongs  to  the  year  1807.  He  was  then 
less  than  twenty  years  old.  This  one  fact  settles  the 
value  to  be  attributed  to  what  he  said,  not  merely  as 
opinions,  but  as  Byron’s  opinions.  There  is  in  his 
remarks  much  affectation  of  learning,  and  his  conclu- 
sions are  announced  with  all  the  dreadful  earnestness 


BYRON  ON  CHAUCER 


261 


of  boyhood.  ‘‘  Chaucer,”  he  writes,  “ notwithstanding 
the  praise  bestowed  on  him,  I think  obscene  and  con- 
temptible : — he  owes  his  celebrity  merely  to  his  an- 
tiquity, which  he  does  not  deserve  as  well  as  Pierce 
Plowman  or  Thomas  of  Ercildoune.  English  living 
poets  I have  avoided  mentioning : — we  have  none  who 
will  not  survive  their  productions.  Taste  is  over  with 
us ; and  another  century  will  sweep  our  empire,  our  lit- 
erature, and  our  name  from  all  but  a place  in  the  annals 
of  mankind.”  Here  it  will  be  observed  that  where  the 
critic  leaves  off,  the  prophet  begins.  It  would,  of  course, 
be  grossly  unfair  to  hold  the  man  responsible  for  the  ut- 
terances of  the  boy.  There  is,  indeed,  no  reason  to  sup- 
pose that  Byron  at  any  time  of  his  life  knew  much  of 
Chaucer,  if  anything.  He  was  too  great  a poet  himself, 
and  had  in  particular  too  keen  an  enjoyment  of  humor, 
not  to  have  appreciated  in  that  case  a mind  which  on 
its  satirical  side  was  closely  allied  to  his  own.  Still,  there 
is  something  so  delightful  in  Byron  at  any  age  taking 
Chaucer  to  task  for  obscenity  that  it  would  have  been  a 
misfortune  not  to  have  had  his  words  recorded.  The 
lofty  standard  of  virtue  he  early  attained  it  is  not  given 
to  the  man  of  average  morals  ever  to  reach. 

It  would  obviously  be  unreasonable  to  lay  much  stress 
upon  the  accident  of  familiarity  or  non-familiarity  with 
Chaucer’s  works  upon  the  part  of  particular  persons,  no 
matter  at  what  period  they  lived.  Still,  I cannot  but 
feel  that  in  his  case  the  difference  of  knowledge  and 
feeling  exhibited  by  two  celebrated  women,  writing  at 
an  interval  of  less  than  fifty  years  apart,  marks  fairly 
the  difference  of  interest  and  of  taste  that  had  come  to 


262 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


prevail  among  the  educated  class  during  the  course  of 
half  a century.  Both  of  these  persons  held  an  impor- 
tant position  in  the  literature  of  their  day.  Both  were 
persons  of  exceptional  cultivation  and  attainment.  Both 
were  deeply  interested  in  poetry.  One  of  them  is  Miss 
Carter.  She  belongs  in  spirit  as  well  as  in  time  to  the 
last  century.  Among  women  she  is  perhaps  its  greatest 
scholar.  Her  distinction  in  her  own  age  was  due  full  as 
much  to  her  learning  as  to  her  purely  literary  achieve- 
ment. To  Chaucer  it  might  be  supposed  she  would 
have  been  attracted  by  scholastic  tastes,  if  not  by  lit- 
erary. Yet  she  knows  nothing  of  him  save  what  she 
has  learned  from  the  reference  in  the  ‘II  Penseroso’  of 
Milton.  This  fact  she  tells  us  herself  in  a letter  written 
to  Mrs.  Montagu  in  1776.  Though  Milton  celebrates 
Chaucer,  the  knowledge  of  the  early  poet  that  can  be 
gathered  from  his  pages  is  naturally  of  the  mistiest  con- 
ceivable character.  Yet  with  this  knowledge  Miss  Car- 
ter was  content.  Contrast  her  state  of  mind  with  that 
of  Mary  Russell  Mitford,  whose  tastes  lay  much  more  in 
the  direction  of  literature  than  in  that  of  learning.  We 
might  expect  that  she  would  have  been  repelled  by  lin- 
guistic difficulties  that  certainly  would  not  have  de- 
terred, if  they  actually  would  not  have  attracted,  her 
predecessor.  So  far  was  this  from  being  the  case  that 
not  only  were  Chaucer’s  writings  well  known  to  Miss 
Mitford,  they  inspired  her  with  a profound  enthusiasm. 
If  Milton  and  Shakspeare  were  set  aside,  she  was  in- 
clined to  prefer  him  to  almost  any  writer  in  the  circle 
of  English  poets.  “ Two  or  three  of  his  Canterbury 
Tales,”  she  wrote  to  a correspondent  in  1815,  “and 


PRESENT  POPULARITY 


263 


some  select  passages  from  his  other  productions  are 
worth  all  the  age  of  Queen  Anne,  our  Augustan  age,  as 
it  has  been  called,  ever  produced.”' 

Up  to  a late  period  the  knowledge  of  Chaucer  has 
been  mainly  confined  to  that  comparatively  small  body 
of  men  whose  tastes  were  especially  literary  or  scholarly. 
It  is  only  since  the  middle  of  this  century  that  acquaint- 
ance with  his  works  has  broadened  and  extended  to  cir- 
cles to  which  nothing  more  than  his  name  would  once 
have  penetrated.  This  statement  is  particularly  true  of 
the  last  twenty-five  years.  It  is  probably  well  within 
bounds  to  say  that  Chaucer  is  now  read  by  a score  of 
persons  where  not  long  ago  he  was  read  by  scarcely  one. 
At  no  period  since  the  latter  half  of  the  sixteenth  century 
has  knowledge  of  the  poet  been  so  great  as  now,  and  in- 
terest in  his  writings  so  widespread.  Not  only  does  the 
number  of  his  students  constantly  increase,  but  the  facili- 
ties for  studying  him  increase  proportionately.  Not  a 
year  passes  which  does  not  bring  forth  the  result  of  some 
investigation  that  throws  light  upon  points  previously  ob- 
scure or  unintelligible,  and  add  some  scrap  of  informa- 
tion to  the  scanty  stock  of  knowledge  we  possess  about 
the  man  and  his  writings.  Not  a year  passes  which  does 
not  see  some  of  his  productions  come  out  in  a new  form. 
Edition  after  edition  appears  of  his  works  in  whole  or  in 
part.  More  have  been  published  during  the  past  twenty 
years  than  came  from  the  press  during  the  previous  three 
hundred.  Something  of  this  revival  is  doubtless  due  to 
the  increasing  attention  paid  to  the  earlier  periods  of  the 
English  language,  which  has  naturally  directed  the  minds 

^ Life  of  Mary  Russell  Milford  (London,  1870),  vol.  i.,  p.  311. 


264  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

of  men  to  the  first  great  representative  author  in  Eng- 
lish literature.  More  of  it  has  been  due  to  the  impulse 
given  to  the  special  study  of  the  poet’s  writings  by  the 
formation  of  the  Chaucer  Society.  This  began  its  pub- 
lications in  1868.  Still,  that  society  was  itself  a result  of 
the  deep  interest  that  had  come  to  be  displayed  in  the 
works  of  him  for  whose  sake  it  was  founded.  Nor  does 
the  feeling  which  prompted  this  study  show  signs  of 
diminution.  It  grows,  and  it  grows  so  rapidly  that  its 
increase  seems  sometimes  to  partake  more  of  the  nature 
of  geometrical  progression  than  of  arithmetical. 

All  this  will  be  conceded  by  him  who  is  familiar  with 
the  facts.  As  Chaucer  is  constantly  appealing  to  a 
wider  and  wider  circle  of  readers,  it  may  be  thought,  in 
consequence,  that  the  day  is  not  far  distant  when  he  will 
become  a popular  poet  in  the  sense  we  attach  to  the 
phrase  as  applied  to  an  author  of  the  first  rank.  That 
such  he  is  pre-eminently  fitted  to  be,  both  by  the  variety 
of  his  powers  and  his  unrivalled  skill  in  narration,  can- 
not be  denied.  Yet  I am  bound  to  record  my  own  con- 
viction that  to  this  position  he  can  never  attain  until  his 
writings  have  been  put  into  modern  orthography.  There 
are  those  who  do  not  care  for  any  such  result.  They 
feel  as  did  Landor,  that  as  many  people  read  Chaucer 
as  are  fit  to  read  him.  There  may  be  both  truth  and 
justice  in  this  view.  Certainly  with  those  holding  it  no 
argument  on  this  point  can  very  well  be  maintained. 
There  is,  however,  a far  larger  number  of  those  who 
believe  that  the  influence  of  one  of  the  healthiest 
spirits  in  our  or  in  any  literature  should  be  extended 
as  far  and  wide  as  possible.  To  this  the  orthography 


CHAUCER  IN  MODERN  ORTHOGRAPHY  265 

in  which  the  poet  appears  presents  a barrier  not  easily 
overcome.  The  spelling  of  Chaucer  in  any  edition  — 
for  in  this  respect  no  two  editions  are  alike  — is  not 
at  all  hard  to  master.  Still,  to  the  unpractised  eye  it 
looks  formidable.  It  is  sufficiently  awe-inspiring  in  ap- 
pearance to  keep  a large  body  of  intelligent  men  from 
attempting  to  assail  it.  More  than  that,  it  has  not  only 
been  enough  to  deter  persons  fully  capable  of  appreci- 
ating the  poet  from  the  effort  to  make  his  acquaintance, 
it  has  in  many  instances  deprived  them  of  the  desire. 

Acting  under  this  conviction,  I have  in  this  work  fol- 
lowed the  practice  of  putting  into  modern  orthography 
the  extracts  I have  taken  from  Chaucer’s  writings,  un- 
less some  special  object  in  view  required  the  retention 
of  the  ancient  spelling.  This  is  a proceeding  upon 
which  most  scholars  look  with  disfavor,  if  not  with  posi- 
tive aversion.  It  may  be  proper,  therefore,  to  conclude 
this  chapter  with  a discussion  of  the  grounds  upon  which 
this  action  is  based.  It  will  not,  of  course,  be  suspected 
that  any  one  who  has  studied  even  superficially  the  Eng- 
lish language  will  stand  up  for  the  present  orthography 
as  a thing  creditable  in  itself.  He  may  accept  it  as  a 
burden  of  which  he  sees  no  present  way  of  getting  rid  ; 
but  that  is  something  altogether  different  from  taking 
pride  in  it  or  looking  upon  it  as  an  object  worthy  of  re- 
gard. There  is  certainly  nothing  more  contemptible 
than  our  present  spelling,  unless  it  be  the  reasons  usu- 
ally given  for  clinging  to  it.  The  divorce  which  has 
unfortunately  almost  always  existed  between  English 
letters  and  English  scholarship  makes  nowhere  a more 
pointed  exhibition  of  itself  than  in  the  comments  which 


266 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


men  of  real  literary  ability  make  upon  proposals  to 
change  or  modify  the  cast-iron  framework  in  which  our 
words  are  now  clothed.  On  one  side  there  is'an  abso- 
lute agreement  of  view  on  the  part  of  those  who  are  au- 
thorized by  their  knowledge  of  the  subject  to  pronounce 
an  opinion.  These  are  well  aware  that  the  present  or- 
thography hides  the  history  of  the  word,  instead  of  re- 
vealing it ; that  it  is  a stumbling-block  in  the  way  of 
derivation  or  of  pronunciation,  instead  of  a guide  to  it ; 
that  it  is  not  in  any  proper  sense  a growth  or  development, 
but  a mechanical  malformation  which  owes  its  existence 
to  the  ignorance  of  early  printers  and  the  necessity  of 
consulting  the  convenience  of  printing-offices.  This  con- 
sensus of  scholars  makes  the  slightest  possible  impres- 
sion upon  men  of  letters  throughout  the  whole  great 
Anglo-Saxon  community.  There  is  hardly  one  of  them 
who  is  not  calmly  confident  in  the  superiority  of  his 
opinion  to  that  of  the  most  famous  special  students,  who 
have  spent  years  in  examining  the  subject.  There  is 
hardly  one  of  them  who  does  not  fancy  that  he  is  mani- 
festing a noble  conservatism  by  holding  fast  to  some 
spelling  peculiarly  absurd,  and  thereby  maintaining  a bul- 
wark against  the  ruin  of  the  tongue.  There  is  hardly 
one  of  them  who  does  not  hesitate  to  discuss  the  ques- 
tion in  its  entirety,  while  every  word  he  utters  shows 
that  he  does  not  even  understand  its  elementary  princi- 
ples. There  would  be  something  thoroughly  comic  in 
turning  into  a fierce  international  dispute  the  question 
of  spelling  honor  without  the  ii,  were  it  not  for  the  de- 
pression which  every  student  of  the  language  cannot 
well  help  feeling  in  contemplating  the  hopeless  abysmal 


CHAUCER  IN  MODERN  ORTHOGRAPHY  267 

ignorance  of  the  history  of  the  tongue  which  any  edu- 
cated man  must  first  possess  in  order  to  become  excited 
on  the  subject  at  all.  Such  a state  of  things  could  not 
exist — it  would  not,  in  fact,  be  tolerated — in  a nation  of 
scholars  like  the  German.  It  is,  perhaps,  not  unreason- 
able to  hope  that,  as  a result  of  the  increasing  attention 
paid  to  our  early  speech,  enough  knowledge  about  the 
history  of  our  orthography  may  filter  down  to  the  aver- 
age man  of  letters  to  enable  him  to  comprehend  what 
are  the  real  difficulties  in  the  way  of  reforming  English 
spelling,  and  lead  him  to  abandon  his  present  habit  of 
bringing  forward  imaginary  ones  that  are  little  more 
than  the  inventions  of  his  own  ignorance. 

This  is,  undoubtedly,  one  reason  that  has  some  weight 
with  many  scholars  in  the  desire  they  feel  to  retain  the 
ancient  spelling  in  the  case  of  the  works  of  Chaucer. 
He  is  attracting  more  and  more  the  regard  of  a large 
class  of  cultivated  readers.  The  argument  in  his  pages 
against  the  orthographical  superstitions  in  which  we 
have  been  brought  up  cannot  fail  in  the  long  run  to 
impress  the  minds  even  of  the  careless.  But,  after  all, 
this  has  never  been  the  main  reason  for  retaining  the 
original  spelling.  Nor,  if  it  were,  would  this  be  a good 
ground  for  adhering  to  it.  A great  poet  does  not  exist 
for  the  reformation  of  linguistic  evils  or  for  instruction 
in  any  branch  of  linguistic  science.  The  proper  light  in 
which  to  view  him  is  a literary  light.  With  those  who 
seek  the  widest  extension  of  his  influence  everything 
should  be  made  subordinate  to  the  extension  of  the 
knowledge  of  him  as  a poet,  and  only  as  a poet.  Our 
existing  orthography  is  upon  us.  Until  it  can  be  shaken 


268 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY. 


off,  we  must  accept  it ; and  he  who  wishes  to  be  widely 
read  must  appear  in  it.  For  one,  I am  unable  to  see  any 
more  reason  for  retaining  Chaucer  in  the  spelling  of  his 
time,  so  far  as  popular  use  is  concerned,  than  for  retain- 
ing Shakspeare.  There  has  never  been  the  slightest 
pretext  for  continuing  to  reproduce  Spenser’s  works  as 
they  were  originally  printed.  In  spite  of  his  affectation 
of  the  archaic,  he  is  generally  as  modern  as  any  writer 
of  his  period,  and  his  lines  present  fewer  difficulties  in 
the  way  of  comprehension  or  of  recitation  than  those  of 
some  of  our  own  contemporaries.  For  students  the 
works  of  Chaucer,  as  well  as  of  other  ancient  writers,  will 
always  be  required  in  the  spelling  of  their  age.  Nor 
need  we  limit  the  necessity  to  ancient  writers.  For 
scholarly  study  the  text  of  every  great  author,  whether 
early  or  late,  should  be  produced  exactly  as  he  brought 
it  into  being.  There  are  numerous  questions  connected 
with  language  and  versification  which  render  such  a 
course  indispensable.  But  it  is  not  in  behalf  of  students 
that  in  this  instance  a resort  to  modern  spelling  is  pro- 
posed. It  is  for  that  already  large  and  steadily  increas- 
ing class  who  would  go  to  Chaucer,  not  at  all  from  lin- 
guistic, but  from  purely  literary  motives.  For  them  the 
thought  and  the  expression  of  the  thought  are  the  only 
things  to  be  considered.  There  is  no  more  need  of 
placing  in  the  way  of  such  persons  an  unfamiliar  and 
obsolete  orthography  than  there  would  be  in  the  case  of 
Shakspeare.  The  difficulty  of  putting  the  language  into 
a form  fitted  for  popular  comprehension  is  indeed  much 
greater  in  the  one  instance  than  in  the  other.  The 
variations  in  accentuation  and  pronunciation  are  far 


EXPERIMENT  IN  MODERN  ORTHOGRAPHY  269 

wider  between  the  nineteenth  century  and  the  four- 
teenth century  than  between  the  nineteenth  and  the 
sixteenth.  But  the  principle  is  precisely  the  same,  and 
the  difficulties,  so  far  from  being  insurmountable,  are 
not  even  formidable. 

One  practical  objection  has  been  raised  against  this 
course.  It  has  been  said  that  the  experiment  has  al- 
ready been  tried  and  has  proved  a failure.  In  1835 
Charles  Cowden  Clarke  brought  out  two  volumes  of  the 
poet’s  writings  under  the  title  of  ‘ The  Riches  of  Chau- 
cer.’ The  first  volume  contained  the  general  Prologue 
and  eleven  of  the  tales,  with  their  introductions ; the 
second,  extracts  from  the  other  poems,  especially  from 
‘Troilus  and  Cressida.’  In  this  work  the  spelling  was 
modernized  and  the  accentuation  marked.  The  edition, 
as  can  be  seen,  was  very  far  from  being  a complete  one. 
It  was  designedly  made  an  expurgated  one.  It  was 
professedly  addressed  to  those  whom  Mr.  Clarke  called 
his  young  friends.  He  purposed,  to  use  his  own  words, 
“ to  omit  all  those  tales  and  casual  passages  of  ill-favored 
complexion,  which,  if  retained,  would  infallibly  banish 
the  book  from  the  very  circles  whither  it  was  directed, 
and  where  I hope  to  hear  of  its  welcoming — I mean 
those  ornaments  of  this  civilized  age  and  patterns  to  the 
civilized  world,  the  ingenuous,  intelligent,  well-informed, 
and  artless  young  women  of  England.”  Still,  the  edi- 
tion, incomplete  as  it  was,  contained  a great  deal  of 
Chaucer’s  best  poetry.  All  difficulties,  moreover,  in  the 
way  of  reading  it  had  been  removed,  so  far  as  that  could 
be  done.  If  a work  of  this  character  could  succeed,  this 
then,  it  is  said,  ought  to  have  succeeded.  Yet  it  did 


2/0 


CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 


not.  The  ingenuous,  intelligent,  well-informed,  and  art- 
less young  women  of  England,  the  ornaments  of  this 
civilized  age  and  patterns  to  the  civilized  world,  did  not 
apparently  take  kindly  to  the  intellectual  nutriment  that 
had  been  provided  for  their  special  delectation.  There 
is  no  evidence  that  this  edition  increased  the  number 
of  Chaucer’s  readers.  It  certainly  did  not  make  him 
popular.  Nor  was  acquaintance  with  his  writings  ma- 
terially aided  by  the  same  process  of  modernizing  the 
spelling  which  was  carried  out  in  the  edition  of  the 
‘ Canterbury  Tales  ’ which  was  included  in  the  collection 
of  the  British  Poets  that  appeared  in  i860  under  the 
editorship  of  Gilfillan. 

The  fact  can  be  admitted  that  Clarke’s  volumes  did 
not  make  Chaucer  popular.  It  is  the  inferences  that 
have  been  drawn  from  the  fact  that  are  objectionable. 
It  was  not  possible  for  any  edition  in  any  form  that  ap- 
peared at  that  time  to  cause  him  to  be  widely  read. 
The  age  was  not  ripe  for  the  attainment  of  any  such  re- 
sult. Public  attention  had  not  been  attracted  to  the 
early  poet ; public  interest  had  not  been  aroused  in  him  ; 
nor  outside  of  the  special  body  of  highly  educated  men, 
more  or  less  scholarly  in  their  tastes,  did  much  curiosity 
exist  about  him.  Appreciation  of  his  writings  could  not 
be  expected  to  spring  up  in  a day.  It  is  a growth,  not 
a special  creation.  Moreover,  there  were  marked  de- 
fects in  the  work  itself.  It  was  an  incomplete  edition, 
and  this  is  something  which  no  one,  man  or  woman,  is 
disposed  to  like.  It  was  an  expurgated  edition,  which 
is  something  all  men  detest.  It  was  printed  in  type 
most  villainously  small.  If  the  young  women  to  whom 


PRONUNCIATION  OF  CHAUCER  2/ 1 

it  was  dedicated  had  pored  over  it,  they  would  have 
been  compelled  to  sacrifice  their  eyesight  to  their  intel- 
lectual development.  In  addition,  while  the  pronuncia- 
tion was  indicated,  it  was  not  always  indicated  correct- 
ly. This  was  especially  true  of  the  accent  when  it  fell 
upon  a syllable  of  the  word  different  from  that  upon 
which  it  now  ordinarily  rests.  This  last  imperfection 
was  largely  aggravated  in  Gilfillan’s  edition,  in  which 
Clarke’s  modernizations  were  used  so  far  as  they  had 
been  made.  These  defects  would  be  enough  of  them- 
selves to  show  the  worthlessness  of  the  inferences  that 
have  been  drawn  from  the  assumed  ill-success  that  at- 
tended the  project.  But  even  the  ill-success  is  nothing 
but  an  assumption.  This  edition  met  with  about  the 
same  amount  of  favor  that  might  have  been  anticipated 
for  a work  of  the  kind  appearing  at  the  time  it  did. 
The  only  reason  for  looking  upon  it  as  a failure  is  that 
it  failed  to  come  up  to  the  unreasonable  expectation  en- 
tertained by  its  projector. 

This  clothing  of  the  poet’s  words  in  modern  orthog- 
raphy necessarily  involves  taking,  so  far  as  popular  use 
is  concerned,  the  still  further  ground  that  he  should  be 
pronounced  as  near  to  modern  English  as  can  be  done 
without  destroying  the  harmony  of  the  versification. 
Great  efforts  have  been  put  forth  during  the  past  few 
years  to  recover  the  pronunciation  of  Chaucer’s  time. 
The  subject  is  an  interesting  one ; the  pursuit  of  it  has 
already  been  attended  with  marked  success;  and  the 
importance  of  the  information  secured  cannot  well  be 
overrated.  But  there  is  always  a tendency  to  extend 
the  results  of  investigations  of  this  character  beyond 


2/2  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

their  legitimate  province,  and  to  intrude  them  into  mat- 
ters with  which  they  have  no  concern.  That  tendency 
is  plainly  manifesting  itself  at  the  present  time  in  the 
views  entertained  about  the  proper  pronunciation  of 
Chaucer’s  words.  Into  a discussion  involving  honest 
difference  of  opinion  it  is  undesirable  to  import  any 
terms  that  are  liable  to  beget  ill-feeling.  Yet  it  seems 
to  me  impossible  to  overlook  the  fact  that  the  revival 
of  interest  in  the  poet  has  been  accompanied  to  no 
small  degree  with  a revival  of  what  is  perilously  near 
pedantry,  if  not  of  pedantry  itself.  In  more  than  one 
way  is  there  danger  of  genuine  literary  appreciation  of 
his  writings  being  swamped  in  the  attention  paid  to 
purely  linguistic  detail.  There  could  be  no  more  for- 
midable obstacle  raised  to  the  popularization  of  his  po- 
etry than  to  require  it  to  be  pronounced  according  to 
the  manner  in  which  scholars,  working,  it  is  true,  with 
imperfect  appliances,  have  concluded  that  it  must  have 
been  pronounced,  and  to  insist  that  it  is  in  this  way  only 
that  it  can  be  pronounced  properly.  That  special  stu- 
dents should  be  expected  to  master  such  a system  arises 
from  the  necessity  they  lie  under  of  keeping  up  with  the 
results  of  the  latest  investigations.  For  any  attempt  to 
impose  it  upon  the  general  body  of  cultivated  men  there 
is  not  the  slightest  justification. 

The  literary  study  of  Chaucer  is  one  thing ; the  lin- 
guistic study  is  quite  another.  Let  us  assume,  what  we 
can  never  know  certainly,  that  we  are  able  to  pronounce 
his  words  exactly  as  he  pronounced  them  himself.  This 
would  be  an  invaluable  acquisition  for  the  student  of 
language,  especially  for  the  student  of  phonetics.  It 


PRONUNCIATION  OF  CHAUCER  273 

would  not  help  him  or  any  one  else  a jot  or  tittle  tow- 
ards the  appreciation  of  the  beauty  and  power  of  Chau- 
cer’s poetry.  For  most  men  it  would  produce  conse- 
quences quite  the  reverse.  It  would  detract  from  the 
effect  of  his  lines  instead  of  adding  to  them.  The  latter 
result  could  be  reached  only  in  the  case  of  the  exceed- 
ingly few  to  whom  this  particular  pronunciation  had  be- 
come so  familiar  that  all  impression  of  strangeness  had 
been  worn  away  by  frequency  of  use.  If  in  reading  a 
sentence  of  any  writer  we  are  led  to  think  not  of  what  it 
means,  but  of  how  it  sounds,  we  may  be  looking  at  it  as 
a contribution  to  knowledge,  but  we  are  not  really  look- 
ing at  it  as  literature,  whatever  may  be  the  view  we  en- 
tertain of  our  own  view.  If  a special  student  of  Chau- 
cer enjoys  his  verse  only  when  he  pronounces  it  as  he 
supposes  the  poet  himself  pronounced  it,  there  is  not 
the  slightest  need  of  his  depriving  himself  of  the  gratifi- 
cation he  derives  from  that  source.  But  he  has  no  right 
to  insist  that  others  shall  be  forced  to  follow  in  his  foot- 
steps, and  to  feel  that  they  are  not  making  a genuine 
literary  study  of  the  author  because  they  do  not  have 
the  time  to  learn  or  the  desire  to  adopt  a pronuncia- 
tion the  acquisition  of  which  has  been  attended  with 
no  small  labor  to  himself,  and  his  practice  of  which  is 
usually  fraught  with  no  small  misery  to  others. 

There  is  in  this  matter  no  likeness  to  the  question  of 
the  adoption  of  the  pronunciation  of  Latin  to  which  it 
has  been  sometimes  compared.  The  position  of  the 
two  tongues  is  essentially  different.  Latin  in  any  pro- 
nunciation would  be  at  first  unfamiliar  to  the  student. 
The  choice  of  the  one  to  be  employed  is  therefore  a 
III.— 18 


274  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

matter  to  be  decided  on  grounds  of  convenience  or  of 
scholarship.  But  we  are  born  into  a particular  pronun- 
ciation of  English.  We  have  not  adopted  it,  we  have 
inherited  it.  We  have  heard  it  from  earliest  childhood, 
and  manhood  has  strengthened  the  hold  it  has  upon  us. 
It  had,  in  fact,  become  a part  of  our  life  before  we  were 
capable  of  reasoning  whether  it  was  in  itself  good  or 
bad.  The  result  is  that  English  which  is  pronounced 
differently  strikes  us  at  the  worst  as  uncouth  or  vulgar ; 
at  the  best,  as  odd  or  quaint.  In  the  latter  case  a cer- 
tain interest  of  its  own  may  attach  to  it,  may  in  the 
instance  of  an  ancient  author  enhance  apparently  his 
charm,  if  the  difference  does  not  affect  perceptibly  the 
ease  of  comprehension.  But  there  it  stops.  If  this  dif- 
ference is  made  a matter  to  which  supreme  attention 
must  be  paid,  the  secret  of  literary  enjoyment  has  been 
lost.  The  sign  has  taken  the  place  of  the  thing  signi- 
fied. We  are  diverted,  we  may  occasionally  be  fasci- 
nated, by  the  strangeness  of  the  sound ; but  the  quaint- 
ness of  the  attire  makes  us  forget  the  sentiment  which 
it  was  designed  to  clothe. 

The  objections  which  have  been  raised  to  putting  the 
writings  of  the  poet  into  modern  orthography,  and  pro- 
nouncing his  words  as  far  as  possible  according  to  mod- 
ern methods,  seem  to  me  particularly  futile.  Much  more 
could  be  said  against  the  proposition  if  we  had  Chau- 
cer’s works  as  they  came  direct  from  his  own  hand,  and 
consequently  represented  his  own  spelling.  As  it  is, 
wide  variations  in  this  respect  not  only  exist  between 
different  manuscripts,  but  between  the  same  words  as 
found  in  different  parts  of  the  same  manuscript.  Famil- 


MODERNIZATION  OF  ORTHOGRAPHY  275 

iarity  with  the  ancient  orthography  has,  however,  bred 
among  scholars  something  of  that  same  unreasoning 
veneration  for  it  which  is  displayed  by  educated  men 
towards  our  modern  orthography.  Verses  written  in  the 
spelling  of  a remote  period  are  supposed  by  that  very 
fact  to  retain  a peculiar  literary  aroma  which  would  be 
lost  wholly,  or  in  part,  if  they  appeared  in  forms  to 
which  we  are  accustomed.  There  are,  at  least  there 
seem  to  be,  persons  who  fancy  that  not  merely  the  fla- 
vor of  antiquity,  but  the  flavor  of  poetry,  would  disap- 
pear from  Chaucer’s  writings  if,  for  illustration,  words 
such  as  hevene^  crtJie^  fyr^  and  teer  should  appear  as 
heaven^  earthy  fire^  and  tear.  We  have  been  actually 
assured  that  a modern  orthography  transports  us  at  once 
from  the  days  of  the  Plantagenets.^  For  those  who  feel 
in  this  way  the  ancient  texts  are  always  accessible.  The 
spelling  of  our  time  may  be  thought  sufficiently  satis- 
factory by  those  who  are  not  easily  transported,  or  who 
do  not  care  if  they  are  transported.  What  appeals  to 
such  men  is  the  purely  literary  aspect  of  poetry,  inde- 
pendent of  the  time  or  place  of  its  production.  For  it 
is  to  be  borne  in  mind  that  in  modernizing  the  spelling 
of  Chaucer  we  are  not  meddling  in  the  slightest  with 
the  integrity  of  his  text ; we  are  not  substituting  other 
words  for  the  words  he  wrote ; we  are  not  making  any 
modifications  in  his  grammar.  All  that  is  essential  to 
him  as  a man  of  letters  continues  to  exist  in  any  orthog- 
raphy that  is  adopted.  . . 

We  have  been  told,  again,  that  with  our  modern  Eng- 
lish method  of  pronunciation  we  should  have  an  accent 

* Hippisley’s  Early  English  Literatnre,  p.  76. 


2/6  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

that  would  fail  to  satisfy  the  poet’s  ear  ; that  he  would 
not  be  able  to  understand  his  own  verse  if  he  returned 
to  earth  ; that,  in  fact,  it  would  strike  him  as  something 
little  better  than  gibberish/  To  me  it  does  not  seem  a 
matter  of  the  slightest  consequence  whether,  under  such 
circumstances,  he  could  understand  it  or  not.  In  the 
first  place,  he  is  not  going  to  return  to  earth.  If  he 
does,  we  may  rest  assured  that  he,  a man  of  supremest 
common-sense,  will  at  once  proceed  to  learn  the  exist- 
ing pronunciation  in  order  to  hold  communion  with  a 
hundred  million  of  his  fellow-creatures,  and  not  ask  them 
to  set  about  acquiring  the  pronunciation  of  the  four- 
teenth century  to  hold  communion  with  him  ; more  es- 
pecially as  the  way  that  has  been  adopted  to  sound  his 
words  may  turn  out  to  be  not  much  more  intelligible  to 
him  than  the  way  they  are  regularly  sounded  now.  But 
as  there  is  no  prospect  of  his  making  his  reappearance, 
it  is  only  necessary  to  say  that  it  is  not  his  feelings  that 
are  to  be  consulted.  In  this  matter  we  pay  no  heed  to 
Shakspeare.  Why  should  an  exception  be  made  in  favor 
of  Chaucer?  No  one  asks  whether  a modern  accent 
would  satisfy  the  ear  of  the  dramatist  in  case  he  re- 
turned to  earth  and  took  advantage  of  the  occasion  to 
listen  to  the  acting  of  one  of  his  own  plays. 

This  last  comparison  puts  the  case  clearly  before  us. 
Our  pronunciation  would  seem  strange  and  frequently 
grotesque  to  Shakspeare.  His  would  seem  strange  and 
occasionally  vulgar  to  us.  If  his  sublimest  tragedies 
could  be  acted  before  a modern  audience  exactly  as 
they  were  pronounced  in  his  day,  there  is  reason  to  be- 

^ Ellis’s  Early  English  Pi'ommciation^  part  i.,  pp.  255  and  258. 


MODERNIZATION  OF  ORTHOGRAPHY  277 

lieve  that  some  of  the  most  powerful  passages  they  con- 
tain would  have  the  effect  of  producing  laughter  rather 
than  admiration  or  grief  or  horror.  They  would,  at  any 
rate,  be  largely  shorn  of  their  beauty  and  effectiveness. 
By  a select  circle  of  scholars,  trained  in  the  history  of 
sounds,  they  might  be  enjoyed  while  the  experiment  had 
the  interest  of  novelty.  To  the  vast  majority  of  any 
audience  they  would  seem  to  take  on  the  nature  of  trav- 
esty. Assuredly,  the  principal  legitimate  interest  in 
them  would  be  that  of  curiosity.  While  their  perform- 
ance might  serve  as  a contribution  to  knowledge,  it 
would  fail  in  the  infinitely  higher  aim  for  which  the 
work  was  written.  We  do  not  need  to  learn  the  way 
Shakspeare  spelled  his  words  to  appreciate  their  signifi- 
cance, or  the  way  he  sounded  them  to  feel  their  inspira- 
tion. What  he  has  given  us  depends  upon  no  such 
chances  of  change  or  accidents  of  circumstance.  If  the 
knowledge  of  his  writings,  if  the  recognition  of  his  ge- 
nius, rested  upon  our  familiarity  with  the  orthography 
and  pronunciation  he  employed,  the  influence  of  the 
serenest  and  stateliest  spirit  in  all  literature  would  be 
confined  to  a scanty  number  of  men,  many  of  whom 
would  have  no  interest  in  him  as  a poet,  but  only  as  an 
authority  upon  phonetics. 

Remarks  of  the  same  general  nature  are  true  about 
Chaucer,  though  not  to  the  same  degree.  Shakspeare’s 
lines  can  be  accommodated  in  most  instances  to  mod- 
ern ears  with  as  much  ease  as  if  they  had  been  written 
yesterday.  In  the  case  of  the  elder  poet,  however,  there 
must  be,  under  any  circumstances,  variations  from  mod- 
ern usage  which  the  reader  or  hearer  must  be  trained  to 


2/8  CHAUCER  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY 

accept.  For  that  very  reason  it  is  desirable  to  reduce 
these  variations  to  the  lowest  possible  limit  that  is  con- 
sistent with  the  literary  integrity  of  the  text.'  For  the 
difference  between  the  two  authors  in  this  matter  is  not 
a difference  of  kind.  The  method  that  has  been  applied 
to  the  one  can  be  trusted  to  succeed  safely  with  the 
other.  It  is  upon  his  value  as  a man  of  letters,  and  not 
upon  his  linguistic  value,  that  the  fame  of  Chaucer  must 
be  established,  if  it  is  expected  to  attain  breadth  as  well 
as  permanence.  The  extent  of  his  popularity  will  de- 
pend, in  the  long  run,  upon  the  degree  to  which  he  is 
made  easily  accessible  to  that  vast  body  of  men  who 
will  refuse  to  encounter  the  obstacles  which  they  have 
been  taught  to  consider  as  necessarily  standing  in  the 
way  of  any  proper  comprehension  of  his  writings.  The 
greatest  of  stumbling-blocks  in  their  pathway  will  have 
been  removed  when  the  poet  has  been  released  as  far  as 
possible  from  the  bondage  of  an  obsolete  orthography. 
This  is  not  to  decry  its  value  for  special  purposes.  It  is 
not  to  maintain  that  editions  of  the  ancient  texts  will 
not  always  be  needed,  and  will  not  always  need  to  be 
studied.  It  is  to  insist  that  for  the  great  body  of  even 
educated  men  they  are  not  a necessity,  and  that,  so  far 
as  these  are  concerned,  they  contribute  nothing  to  the 
spread  of  the  poet’s  fame. 

The  superstition  of  scholars  may,  and  doubtless  will, 
delay  the  time  of  Chaucer’s  deliverance  from  this  bond- 
age, but  will  not  prevent  its  coming  at  last.  It  took  a 
good  deal  more  than  a century  to  put  his  works  into 
Roman  type  after  the  rest  of  our  literature  had  aban- 
doned black-letter.  We  know  what  sorrow  of  heart  that 


MODERNIZATION  OF  ORTHOGRAPHY  279 

act  brought  to  the  antiquarian  students  of  the  age  in 
which  it  was  accomplished,  who  felt  that,  by  making  his 
writings  more  accessible  in  this  way,  a loftier  scholarship 
had  succumbed  to  the  demands  of  a slothful  and  ease- 
loving  generation.  Nor  need  it  be  denied  that  loss  of  a 
certain  kind  there  will  be  in  putting  Chaucer’s  works  into 
modern  orthography.  But  whatever  the  loss,  the  gain 
will  be  far  greater.  It  will  be  greater,  too,  in  ways  of 
which  we  can  now  but  vaguely  feel  the  importance.  For 
as  things  are  at  present  shaping  themselves,  there  is  dan- 
ger that  the  same  fate  is  threatening  the  most  famous  of 
our  early  poets  which  has,  in  large  measure,  overtaken 
his  Greek  and  Latin  predecessors  ; that  to  many  the  ulti- 
mate object  of  his  existence  will  seem  to  have  been  for 
little  other  purpose  than  to  make  schoolboys  miserable. 
Chaucer  should,  be  saved  from  any  such  degradation.  To 
us  he  should  be  made  a delight  and  an  inspiration,  as  he 
was  to  his  contemporaries.  There  are  plenty  of  early 
writers  who  can  properly  be  made  the  subject  of  gram- 
matical training.  From  them  the  intricacies  of  syntax, 
the  variations  of  inflection,  the  peculiarities  of  pronun- 
ciation, can  be  readily  learned.  But  the  study  of  a great 
English  classic  should  be  made  primarily  a literary  one. 
Moreover,  not  even  secondarily,  but  very  remotely  in- 
stead, should  it  be  made  a linguistic  one.  Any  other 
course  may,  after  a fashion,  keep  alive  the  poet ; but  it 
will  certainly  be  effective  in  destroying  the  poetry. 


VI IL 

CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 


J 


CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 


HE  unhappy  difference  of  opinion  that  prevails  be- 


^ tween  authors  and  reviewers  was  not  a result  that 
followed  from  the  invention  of  printing.  The  contro- 
versy is  as  old  as  literature  itself.  It  need  not  be  fancied 
that  there  was  ever  a time  when  depreciation  did  not 
flourish,  because  it  is  only  in  modern  days  that  it  has 
been  in  a position  to  leave  behind  memorials  of  its  ex- 
istence. The  critic  was  abroad  long  before  the  school- 
master. He  was  just  as  active  in  the  fourteenth  century 
as  he  is  in  the  nineteenth.  He  was  in  the  eyes  of  the 
author  just  as  malignant  then  as  now,  though  he  had  at 
that  time  no  official  organs  in  which  to  express  his  sen- 
timents, no  periodical  which  could  give  the  sanction  of 
collective  authority  to  his  individual  judgment.  But  he 
could  make  himself  felt.  Sometimes  it  was  in  heavy 
books.  More  often  it  was  in  slight  pieces,  copies  of 
which  would  circulate  from  hand  to  hand  in  the  small 
circle  of  which  the  reading  world  then  consisted.  If  all 
other  agencies  failed,  he  could  count  pretty  confidently 
on  his  words  reaching  the  author  through  the  never- 
failing  medium  of  acquaintances  and  friends. 

The  references  to  Chaucer  that  have  come  down  to  us 
from  his  own  age  and  the  age  that  immediately  followed 
are  indeed  singularly  unanimous  in  his  praise.  No  dis- 
cordant voice  breaks  the  note  of  approval  which  cele- 


284  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

brates  him  as  the  chief  poet  of  Britain,  as  the  great  cre- 
ative spirit  that  had  breathed  into  our  literature  the 
breath  of  life.  But  though  disparagement  failed  even 
to  perpetuate  the  remembrance  of  itself,  there  can  be 
neither  doubt  of  its  existence  nor  of  the  favor  with 
which  it  was  received.  Ill-natured  criticism,  whether  it 
be  just  or  unjust,  will  always  be  read  or  heard  with 
pleasure  by  even  good-natured  men  so  long  as  envy, 
malice,  and  all  uncharitableness  are  avenues  to  the  hu- 
man heart.  Posterity  is  inclined  to  remember  the  great 
writer  only  by  his  successes.  Contemporaries  never  for- 
get to  fix  their  attention  upon  his  failures.  Chaucer,  we 
may  be  sure,  had  no  different  experience  from  all  men 
of  genius  before  or  since  his  time.  He  had  to  encoun- 
ter the  attacks  of  the  bitter  enemy,  the  condescending 
praise  of  the  intellectual  being  too  superior  to  find  any- 
thing very  admirable  which  others  like  enthusiastically, 
and,  worse  than  all,  he  had  to  endure  the  guarded  ap- 
proval of  the  candid  friend.  He  has  not,  indeed,  ex- 
pressed himself  upon  the  subject  ever  present  to  the 
mind  of  the  author  with  the  wrath  which  marks  the  ut- 
terances of  Spenser,  Daniel,  and  Drayton.  That  was 
something  which  it  was  not  in  his  nature  to  do,  even  had 
he  suffered  more  keenly  than  they.  But  even  if  he  was 
indifferent  to  the  attacks  made  upon  him,  he  was  not 
unaware  of  their  existence. 

On  this  point  his  writings  furnish  us  a good  deal  of 
testimony  of  an  indirect  sort.  In  spite  of  the  lack  of 
recorded  criticism,  there  is  satisfactory  evidence  that  the 
critic  was  known  to  Chaucer  and  recognized  by  him  as  a 
very  positive  entity.  Illustrations  of  the  fact  are  far 


CONTEMPORARY  CRITICISM 


285 


from  infrequent.  In  one  place  the  poet  anticipates  and 
replies  to  a possible  objector  who  might  find  fault  with 
his  representation  of  the  suddenness  with  which  Cressida 
is  inspired  with  love  for  Troilus.  It  is  in  this  way  that 
he  disposes  of  the  cavil  and  the  caviller : 

“ Now  mighte  some  envious  jangle  thus : 

‘This  was  a sudden  love.  How  might  it  be 
That  she  so  lightly^  loved  Troilus 
Right  for  the  firste  sighte  Yea,  parde  !’ 

Now  who  so  sayeth,  so  mote  he  never  thee!’^ 

For  everything  of  ginning^  hath  it  need. 

Ere  all  be  wrought  withouten  any  drede.^ 

“For  I say  not  that  she  so  suddenly 
Gave  him  her  love,  but  that  she  gan  incline 
To  like  him  first,  and  I have  told  you  why; 

And  after  that  his  manhood  and  his  pine^ 

Made  love  within  her  hearte  for  to  mine : 

For  which  by  process  and  by  good  service 
He  gat  her  love,  and  in  no  sudden  wise.” 

It  will  be  noticed  that  in  this  passage  not  only  does 
Chaucer  very  naturally,  and  from  the  author’s  point  of 
view  very  properly,  represent  the  critic  as  jangling — that 
is,  ‘ talking  foolishly,’  which  of  course  he  always  does — 
but  he  also  stigmatizes  him  as  inspired  by  envy,  as  of 
course  he  always  is.  It  is  not  the  poet’s  only  reference 
to  the  part  this  passion  plays  in  affecting  the  judgment 
of  men.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  short  prefatory  ad- 
dress to  his  son  with  which  the  treatise  on  the  ‘Astro- 
labe ’ opens,  he  is  careful  to  disavow  any  pretence  that 
the  work  was  original.  One  reason  he  gives  for  the 

‘ Easily.  ^ Thrive.  ® Beginning.  * Doubt.  * Suffering. 


286  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

acknowledgment  of  his  obligation  to  others  suggests  an 
atmosphere  of  detraction,  the  existence  of  which  he  does 
not  assert.  “ Consider  well,”  he  writes,  “ that  I ne  usurp 
not  to  have  found  this  work  of  my  labor  or  of  mine  en- 
gine.^ I ne  am  but  a lewd  compilatour'^  of  the  labor  of  old 
astrologians,  and  have  it  translated  in  mine  English  only 
for  thy  doctrine  and  with  this  sword  shall  I slay  envy.” 
It  is  to  be  hoped,  though  it  may  reasonably  be  doubted, 
that  his  weapon  effected  the  execution  he  desired. 

Nowhere,  however,  are  the  sentiments  of  Chaucer 
about  himself  and  his  own  reputation  so  clearly  indi- 
cated as  in  two  passages  of  the  ‘House  of  Fame’ — a 
work  in  which  he  has  given  us  the  directest  if  not  the 
fullest  revelation  of  his  personal  feelings  and  of  his  ways 
of  looking  at  life.  One  of  these  is  towards  the  end  of 
the  poem.  Though  to  some  extent  obscure,  it  is  suffi- 
ciently clear  to  show  that  Chaucer  appreciated  fully  his 
own  position  in  literature,  and  that  he  purposed  to  keep 
within  his  own  breast  his  personal  opinion  about  it  as 
well  as  his  personal  grievances.  At  the  temple  of  the 
goddess  a stranger  is  represented  by  the  poet  as  having 
accosted  him  in  a friendly  way,  and  as  having  asked  him 
if  he  had  come  thither  in  order  to  secure  fame  for  him- 
self. This  is  the  answer  given  : 

“ ‘ Nay,  for  soothe,  friend,’  quoth  I, 

‘ I came  not  thither,  grant-mercy,^ 

For  no  such  cause,  by  mine  head! 

Sufficeth  me,  as  I were  dead. 

That  no  wight  have  my  name  in  hand ; 

I wot  myself  best  how  I stand ; 


^ Ingenuity.  Ignorant  compiler.  ^ Instruction.  ^ Thank  you. 


CONTEMPORARY  CRITICISM 


287 


For  what  I dree*  or  what  I think, 

I will  myselven  all  it  drink, 

Certainly  for  the  more  part, 

<As  far  forth  as  I can®  mine  art.’”  1873-1882. 


If  these  lines  may  seem  to  indicate  indifference,  there 
is  nothing  of  that  sentiment  in  the  more  open  expression 
of  feeling  upon  the  subject  of  criticism  which  occurs  near 
. the  beginning  of  this  same  poem.  There,  in  petitioning 
' for  the  success  of  what  he  is  about  to  write,  he  prays  for 
-all  possible  prosperity  for  those  who  think  well  of  his 
^work,  and  invokes  every  possible  calamity  upon  him  who 
-misjudges  it  through  malice,  presumption,  hate,  scorn, 
envy,  and  all  the  other  abstract  nouns  which  the  author 
from  time  immemorial  feels  warranted  in  imputing  to 
the  reviewer.  Before  describing  his  own  dream,  it  is 
thus  he  expresses  his  wishes  about  the  dreams  of  his 
two  classes  of  readers  or  hearers : 


“ And  He  that  mover  is  of  all 
That  is  and  was,  and  ever  shall,® 

So  give  hem^  joys  that  it  hear 
Of  alle  that  they  dream  to-year;® 

And  for  to  standen  all  in  grace 
Of  here®  loves,  or  in  what  place 
That  hem  were  liefest  for  to  stand : 

And  shield  hem  from  poverte  and  shand,’ 
And  from  unhap  and  each  disease ; 

And  send  hem  all  that  may  hem  please 
That  take  it  well  and  scorn  it  not, 

Ne  it  misdeemen  in  here®  thought 
Through  malicious  intention. 

And  whoso  through  presumption. 


* Endure. 
- Know. 


3 Shall  be. 
* Them. 


® This  year. 
® Their. 


Disgrace. 


288 


CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 


Or  hate,  or  scorn,  or  through  envie. 

Despite,  or  jape,  or  villainy. 

Misdeem  it,  pray  I Jesus  God, 

Dream  he  barefoot  or  dream  he  shod, 

That  every  harm  that  any  man 
Hath  had  sith  that  the  world  began, 

Befall  him  thereof  ere  he  sterve,^ 

And  grant  he  mote  it  full  deserve. 

Lo,  with  right  such  a conclusion 
As  had  of  his  avision'^ 

Croesus,  that  was  king  of  Lyde, 

That  high  upon  a gibbet  died. 

This  prayer  shall  he  have  of  me; 

I am  no  beU  in  charity.  76-108. 

We  can  well  conceive  that  a good  deal  of  seriousness 
may  have  lurked  under  this  jesting  tone.  It  is  reason- 
able to  infer  from  this  passage  that,  however  conscious 
the  poet  may  have  been  of  his  own  greatness  and  of  the 
feebleness  of  his  foes,  he  had  not  been  absolute^  in- 
different to  their  attacks.  Certainly  literature  will  be 
searched  in  vain  for  a more  comprehensive  blessing  be- 
stowed upon  the  enthusiastic  admirer,  or  a more  com- 
prehensive curse  launched  at  the  head  of  the  pestilent 
fault-finder.  This  half-humorous  attack  upon  foes  now 
forgotten  is,  indeed,  a somewhat  noteworthy  incident  in 
the  contest  that  has  always  gone  on  between  the  small 
body  of  those  who  create  literature  and  the  large  body 
of  those  who  criticise  what  is  created.  There  were,  how- 
ever, feelings,  independent  of  what  others  said,  that  could 
not  fail  at  times  to  affect  the  poet.  It  was  inevitable 
that  a presentiment  of  the  transitoriness  of  his  own 


Die. 


^ Vision. 


^ Better 


V DISSATISFACTION  WITH  HIS  OWN  WORK  289 

reputation  should  lie  heavy  on  his  heart  in  moments  of 
depression.  Dissatisfaction  with  what  he  had  accom- 
plished, which  comes  to  all  who  accomplish  anything, 
came  certainly  to  him.  The  impression  that  it  was  time 
for  him  to  retire,  to  give  place  to  younger  and  better 
men,  is  very  noticeable  in  the  remarkable  verses  ad- 
dressed to  Scogan,  in  which  he  tells  his  friend  that  he 
shall  write  no  more.  Everything,  he  says,  that  has  been 
written  will  disappear  from  memory,  if  not  from  exist- 
ence. His,  too,  must  be  the  fate  that  overtakes  all.  He 
has  had  his  day,  and  in  these  lines  he  gives  us  to  under- 
stand that  he  accepts  without  murmuring  the  common 
lot : 

“ But  all  shall  passen  that  men  prose  or  ryme. 

Take  every  man  his  turn  as  for  his  time.” 

But  Chaucer,,  though  he  has  preserved  the  existence 
of  the  attacks  that  were  made  upon  him,  has  preserved 
neither  the  names  of  his  censurers  nor  the  nature  of 
their  censure.  Whatever  the  latter  may  have  been,  it  is 
certainly  different  from  that  which  has  been  current  for 
the  last  two  hundred  years.  It  is  the  misfortune  of  our 
age  that  it  has  inherited  a mass  of  ignorant  criticism 
about  the  poet  which  has  come  by  dint  of  repetition  to 
be  looked  upon  by  many  as  essentially  correct.  It  is  in 
every  respect  purely  conventional.  Originated  by  men 
who  read  him  without  understanding  him,  it  has  con- 
tinued to  be  repeated  by  men  who  do  not  take  the  pre- 
liminary step  towards  understanding  him  that  is  in- 
volved in  reading  him.  It  is  not  always  exasperating. 
There  are  occasional  exhibitions  of  ignorant  deprecia- 
tion which  the  poet  himself  could  have  read  with  equa- 
IIL— 19 


290  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

nimity  or  with  amusement.  Nor  need  his  admirers  take 
this  sort  of  criticism  seriously  to  heart.  It  is  obviously 
harmless  because  it  is  obviously  silly.  There  exists,  for 
illustration,  a work  written  not  many  years  ago,  in  which 
the  author  tells  us  that  while  no  doubt  in  his  time  Chau- 
cer was  thought  witty,  scarcely  any  part  of  his  writings 
“ would  raise  a laugh  at  the  present  day,  though  they 
might  a blush.”’  This  remarkable  statement  occurs  in 
a production  which  professes  to  give  a history  of  Eng- 
lish humor.  It  is  the  only  original  passage  in  the  course 
of  two  volumes  that  is  itself  open  to  the  suspicion  of 
being  humorous. 

Of  the  conventional  estimates  that  are  current  the 
most  irritating  to  the  genuine  student  of  the  poet  is  the 
contrast  that  is  perpetually  drawn  to  his  discredit  be- 
tween him  and  some  one  else.  He  has  not  this  man’s 
depth,  that  man’s  height,  the  other  man’s  breadth,  and 
all  the  rest  of  the  vague  comparisons  dear  to  that  cheap 
criticism  which  delights  in  telling  us  what  an  author  is 
not,  instead  of  what  he  is.  The  writer  to  whom  he  is 
most  usually  brought  forward  to  serve  as  a foil  is 
Shakspeare.  No  better  selection  could  have  been  made 
to  show  the  folly  of  this  sort  of  contrast.  Still,  the  con- 
stant juxtaposition  and  opposition  of  the  two  names 
render  it  worth  while  to  point  out  the  essential  differ- 
ences between  these  two  men  of  genius,  and  the  gross 
impropriety  of  setting  them  off  against  each  other.  No 
comparison,  in  truth,  can  be  made  between  them. 
Shakspeare  is  essentially  a dramatic  poet.  He  identi- 

' History  of  English  Hnmour,  by  the  Rev.  A.  G.  K.  L’Estrange,  vol. 
i.,  p.  224. 


SHAKSPEARE  AND  CHAUCER 


29 


fies  himself  so  thoroughly  with  his  characters  that  his 
own  identity  disappears.  There  is  no  other  author  in 
our  speech,  perhaps  not  in  any  speech,  whose  person- 
ality is  so  little  prominent  in  his  writings.  He  has  been 
supposed,  and  with  equally  good  reason,  aristocrat  and 
democrat,  royalist  and  republican,  Protestant  and  Ro- 
man Catholic,  seaman,  lawyer,  anything  and  everything 
which  it  occurs  to  addled  brain  to  concoct  or  perverse 
ingenuity  to  suggest.  Even  his  sonnets  which  purport 
by  their  nature  to  be  revelations  of  himself,  and  which 
might  be  expected  to  tell  us  with  certainty  something 
about  his  own  personal  feelings  and  fortunes,  offer  so 
little  ground  for  positive  inference  or  even  rational  con- 
jecture that  the  heart  of  their  mystery  still  remains  un- 
plucked. With  Shakspeare  the  dramatic  instinct  has 
wholly  excluded  the  personal.  He  loses  himself  in 
every  character  he  portrays.  The  interest  is  never  once 
turned  aside  from  the  thing  created  to  the  creator. 

On  the  other  hand,  Chaucer  is  a great  narrative  poet. 
In  this  respect  he  has  no  equal  in  our  tongue.  But  the 
qualities  that  go  to  form  the  narrative  poet  are  quite 
distinct  from  those  which  enter  into  the  composition  of 
the  dramatic.  The  story-teller  himself  is  never  in  the 
background.  We  hear  with  his  ears,  we  see  with  his 
eyes,  we  judge  with  his  judgment.  Chaucer’s  success 
as  a narrative  poet  is  largely  due  to  the  ease  and  ful- 
ness with  which  he  makes  us  enter  into  his  own  thoughts 
and  feelings.  Unlike  the  majestic  impersonality  of 
Shakspeare,  who  pictures  for  us  the  world  while  he 
shrouds  himself  in  darkness,  there  is  nothing  more  con- 
spicuous in  the  ‘Canterbury  Tales’  than  the  individu- 


292  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

ality  of  their  composer.  Nor  is  this  peculiar  to  them. 
All  of  Chaucer’s  writings  are  so  full  of  himself,  and  even 
of  references  to  himself,  that  there  is  no  early  author  of 
whose  sentiments  and  ways  of  looking  at  life  we  get  so 
clear  and  vivid  an  impression.  He  is  so  far  from  being 
merged  in  his  characters  that  he  holds  himself  aloof 
from  them  ; he  describes  them,  he  analyzes  them,  he 
criticises  them.  They  stand  out  under  his  drawing 
sharp,  clear,  distinct.  But  it  is  he  that  reveals  them 
to  us;  they  do  not,  as  in  the  drama,  reveal  themselves. 
He  has,  to  be  sure,  as  any  great  writer  must  have,  the 
dramatic  faculty  to  this  extent,  that  he  purposes  to 
have  everything  substantially  in  keeping.  He  gave  his 
personages,  or  at  least  purposed  to  give  them,  stories 
precisely  suited  to  their  different  characters.  But  in 
everything  they  say  his  own  views  are  reflected,  his 
own  individuality  is  asserting  itself.  He  never  intrudes 
himself  offensively ; but  we  are  always  conscious  of  his 
presence.  We  know  his  opinions  about  alchemy,  as  ac- 
curately as  if  he  had  written  a special  treatise  upon  the 
subject.  Had  it  been  safe  for  him  to  express  himself 
fully  and  plainly,  there  is  little  reason  to  doubt  that  we 
should  have  had  a clear  conception  of  the  views  he  took 
of  the  great  religious  controversies  that  were  going  on 
in  his  time,  and  should  have  learned  definitely  where  his 
sympathies  lay. 

Differences  of  this  nature  existing  both  in  the  character 
of  the  men  and  in  the  character  of  their  work  render  any 
comparison  between  Chaucer  and  Shakspeare  not  merely 
unfruitful,  but  improper.  Minor  poets  bear  often  a close 
resemblance ; but  rarely,  indeed,  do  two  great  writers 


TRADITIONAL  VIEWS  ABOUT  THE  POET  293 

stand  in  any  such  relation  to  each  other  as  to  permit  the 
satisfactory  application  of  criticism  of  this  sort.  Dry- 
den  and  Pope  are  certainly  the  only  ones  in  our  litera- 
ture who  lend  themselves  easily  to  it.  Still,  it  is  a kind 
of  comment  to  which  all  authors  are  and  have  been  sub- 
ject. It  is  therefore  irritating  in  this  special  instance, 
not  because  Chaucer  is  the  only  one  to  whom  it  has 
been  applied,  but  because  it  is  so  regularly  applied  to 
him  for  the  sake  of  depreciating  his  actual  achievement. 
Far  more  false  and  misleading,  however,  is  the  criticism 
which  has  concerned  itself  with  his  art,  his  knowledge  of 
it,  and  his  proficiency  in  it.  This  is  an  inheritance  from 
the  century  that  followed  the  Restoration.  The  tra- 
ditions of  that  age  now  meet  with  unqualified  scorn 
when  directed  to  other  writers.  They  merit  the  same 
treatment  when  directed  to  Chaucer.  They  receive  it 
from  those  who  are  familiar  with  his  writings.  But  they 
still  continue  to  dominate  the  views  of  that  vast  body  of 
cultivated  men  who  are  content  to  take  their  ideas  about 
the  poet  at  second-hand.  The  consequence  is  that  the 
phrases  current  in  the  eighteenth  century  continue  yet 
to  be  repeated.  They  did  then  represent  a certain  de- 
gree of  honest,  if  unintelligent,  belief,  because  they  were 
based  upon  the  opinions  of  those  supposed  to  know. 
Now,  so  far  as  they  have  any  foundation  at  all,  they  are 
based  upon  the  opinions  of  those  who  are  known  not  to 
know. 

I throw  out  of  consideration  the  views  of  men,  even 
of  men  of  ability,  who  have  been  disposed  to  depreciate 
Chaucer  without  having  read  apparently  a line  of  his 
writings.  Sentiments  of  the  kind  they  express  were 


294  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

much  more  common  a short  time  ago  than  now.  They 
can  be  trusted  to  die  out  of  themselves  without  help 
from  any  outside  quarter.  It  is  the  views  of  a certain 
class  of  persons  who  did  and  do  read  the  poet  with  some 
sort  of  appreciation  and  with  some  sort  of  knowledge 
that  need  examination  at  this  point.  The  sentiments 
they  entertain,  to  whatever  cause  due,  do  not  therefore 
arise  from  indifference.  It  is  the  question  of  his  art 
that  comes  here  under  consideration.  It  was  long  a 
common  belief,  even  with  his  admirers,  that  in  regard  to 
that  Chaucer  stood  in  a peculiar  relation.  The  opinion 
held  about  him  was  substantially  the  following  :\He  was 
great,  but  he  was  rude.  He  was  a man  of  genius,  but  a 
barbarian.  He  was  one  of  those  inspired  beings  who  by 
some  supreme  unconscious  effort  give  birth  to  creations 
whose  happiness  they  do  not  perceive  and  whose  great- 
ness they  do  not  themselves  appreciate.  The  laboring 
art  of  later  times  aspires  in  vain  to  reach  the  height 
which  they  have  attained  without  apparent  exertion. 
What  they  have  succeeded  in  doing,  it  rarely  equals,  and 
finds  it  impossible  to  surpass.  It  studies  them,  it  imi- 
tates them  ; it  admits  their  superiority,  but  consoles  itself 
with  the  belief  that,  while  they  excel  in  power,  they  fail 
in  art. 

This  was  the  cant  of  criticism  once  current  about 
Shakspeare.  We  have  freed  ourselves  from  it  in  re- 
gard to  him.  But  the  burden  which  has  fallen  from 
his  back  has  been  transferred  to  the  shoulders  of  Chau- 
ce^  It  is  he  who  now  appears  in  the  role  of  the  in- 
spired barbarian.  By  many  this  view  is  looked  upon 
as  conveying  a compliment  rather  than  censure.  Yet 


A CONSCIOUS  WORKER 


295 


to  either  praise  or  blame  of  this  kind  the  early  poet  is 
not  in  the  least  entitled.  Such  an  opinion  of  his  char- 
acter, widely  as  it  has  been  entertained,  is  the  farthest 
possible  remove  from  fact.  For  if  there  is  one  thing  in 
his  case  that  is  above  other  things  the  truth,  it  is  that 
Chaucer  is  supremely  the  artist.  His  works  are  not 
the  outburst  of  a mighty  but  savage  genius  which  pro- 
duces results  it  cannot  tell  how,  and  that  fails  to  under- 
stand the  greatness  it  has  created.  Both  in  matter  and 
in  manner  he  was  a conscious  worker.  What  he  accom- 
plished was  accomplished  deliberately.  By  being  done 
deliberately  it  is  not  meant  that  it  was  done  slowly.  It 
is  merely  that  it  was  the  achievement  of  one  who  com- 
prehended his  own  intellectual  gifts,  calculated  his  own 
resources,  and  calmly  set  to  work  to  give  form  and  be- 
ing to  the  creations  he  had  in  mind.  This  self-knowl- 
edge, this  self-consciousness,  can  be  traced  in  the  grad- 
ual development  of  his  powers.  Genius  such  as  was 
Chaucer’s  ordinarily  has  no  beginning.  When  once  the 
man  has  arrived  at  maturity,  its  manifestations  are  apt 
to  be  wholly  independent  of  age.  Yet  it  was  inevitable 
that  a writer  in  his  position,  with  no  native  models  to 
follow,  could  hardly  hope  to  reach  the  perfection  of  his 
art  at  a bound.  True  it  is  that  only  in  a general  way 
do  we  know  about  the  time  of  the  production  of  his 
works.  Still,  even  that  general  knowledge  is  ample 
enough  to  make  evident  that  the  skill  of  the  poet  was 
not  only  a growth,  but  that  it  was  a conscious  growth. 
For  it  is  not  alone  what  he  did  in  his  art,  but  what  he 
thought  about  it,  that  wilFappear  in  the  course  of  the 
following  pages.  From  these  it  will  become  plain  that 


296  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

the  same  questions  which  constantly  present  themselves 
now  for  adjudication  were  then  just  as  fully  before  the 
minds  of  men  ; that  then,  as  now,  there  were  schools 
which  held  widely  divergent  opinions  about  the  mat- 
ters under  discussion;  and  that  upon  these  matters 
Chaucer  had  views  as  definite  and  pronounced  as  the 
newest  critic  in  the  oldest  review,  who,  strong  with  the 
accumulated  wisdom  of  the  ages,  has  for  the  thousandth 
time  settled  decisively  all  the  points  involved. 

I started  out  with  the  assertion  that  Chaucer  was  su- 
premely the  artist.  He  was  the  artist  in  the  fabrication 
of  his  verse  as  well  as  in  the  construction  of  his  plot  and 
the  telling  of  his  story.  In  both  these  respects  his  work 
shows  a regular  advance,  wherever  we  can  test  it  with 
any  certainty  by  its  date  of  composition.  The  story  of 
his  literary  life  is,  in  fact,  a story  of  steady  growth,  in 
which  he  gradually  rose  superior  to  the  taste  of  his  time, 
proved  all  things,  found  out  that  which  was  true,  and 
held  fast  to  that  which  was  good.  This  applies  to 
the  technical  part  of  his  work  as  well  as  to  the  more 
purely  poetical.  The  latter  will  be  conceded  even  by 
those  who  have  but  a limited  acquaintance  with  his 
writings.  Not  so  the  former.  What  he  accomplished 
there  is  unknown  to  most,  and,  for  some  unexplained 
reason,  seems  scarcely  to  have  attracted  the  attention 
of  any.  In  the  various  eulogistic  tributes  that  have 
been  paid  to  the  poet,  it  is  rare  that  it  has  received 
even  cursory  notice.  In  none  of  them  has  it  ever  been 
credited  with  its  full  significance.  This  must  be  the 
justification  for  treating  it  with  a fulness  of  detail  that 
will  leave  no  room  either  for  doubt  or  denial. 


HIS  INTEREST  IN  VERSIFICATION  297 

The  well-worn  assertion  made  in  regard  to  Augustus 
Caesar  that  he  had  found  Rome  brick  and  had  left  it 
marble  must  once  more  do  duty  as  exemplifying  the  re- 
lation which  Chaucer  bears  to  the  development  of  Eng- 
lish versification.  No  writer  of  our  speech  has  contrib- 
uted a greater  share  than  he  to  the  vast  variety  of  ryme. 
This  fact  of  itself  disposes  of  the  charge  that  he  was 
merely  a barbarian  of  genius.  What  he  did  could  not 
well  have  been  accomplished  by  any  one  for  whom  po- 
etry, looked  at  purely  as  an  art,  had  not  a special  attrac- 
tion. We  can,  indeed,  easily  attach  a value  to  mere 
feats  of  ryming  which  they  in  no  way  deserve.  To 
have  composed  verses  in  half  a dozen  different  meas- 
ures never  used  before  is  no  proof  of  the  poetical  in- 
spiration of  the  writer.  But  there  is  nothing  violent 
in  the  inference  that  it  does  argue  his  interest  in  the  art 
of  versification,  and  no  mean  proficiency  in  its  practice. 
It  may,  indeed,  and  sometimes  does,  show  much  more. 
A high  degree  of  credit  must  be  given  to  the  inventor 
or  first  introducer  of  a metrical  form  which  accommo- 
dates itself  so  readily  and  completely  to  the  genius  of  a 
tongue  that  it  becomes  a general  vehicle  which  poetical 
activity  is  naturally  inclined  to  employ.  This  is  one  of 
the  supreme  tests  by  which  the  greatness  of  a poet  as  a 
conscious  artist  must  be  tried.  So  much  at  least  can  be 
said  of  it  at  an  early  period  in  the  literary  history  of  any 
people.  It  is  therefore  a criterion  by  which  the  charac- 
ter of  Chaucer  can  be  fairly  put  to  proof.  We  have  a 
right  to  ask  if  he  had  the  ability  to  create  methods  of 
expression  possessed  of  vitality  so  enduring  that  they 
have  successfully  survived  the  ordeal  which  time  and 


298  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

trial  impose.  It  is  in  the  answer  that  must  be  made  to 
this  question  that  his  proficiency  in  poetry  as  a product 
of  art,  and  not  merely  of  inspiration,  asserts  itself  pre- 
eminently. The  permanence  of  the  work  he  wrought  is 
the  triumphant  vindication  of  the  insight  which  recog- 
nized existing  defects,  and  of  the  judgment  that  applied 
the  remedy.  The  results  he  achieved  have  not  been 
surpassed  by  any  who  came  after  him,  and  have  per- 
haps in  their  entirety  been  equalled  by  none. 

For  we  must  consider,  as  I have  had  occasion  to  re- 
mark more  than  once  before,  the  circumstances  in  which 
Chaucer  was  placed  in  his  relation  to  the  language  and 
the  literature.  In  the  matter  of  versification,  he  was 
both  a reformer  and  an  inventor.  For  at  whatever  pe- 
riod we  choose  to  date  his  first  attempts  at  composition, 
there  will  be  no  difference  of  view  as  to  the  position  in 
which  he  found  himself.  He  Avas  possessed  of  genius. 
But  to  the  man  possessed  of  genius  there  was  in  the 
English  of  that  time  no  adequate  vehicle  for  expres- 
sion. The  technical'  forms  which  the  modern  writer 
finds  ready  made  in  abundance  had  then  no  existence. 
These  either  had  to  be  developed  from  the  crude  forms 
already  existing,  or  borrowed  from  those  prevailing  in 
more  highly  cultivated  tongues,  or  created  outright. 
Nor,  with  the  exception  of  some  of  the  producers  of 
the  scanty  lyric  poetry  of  the  previous  century,  does 
there  seem  to  have  been  any  idea  of  harmony  save  of 
the  rudest  kind.  This  condition  of  things  had  the  in- 
evitable result  of  putting  Chaucer  in  the  position  of  one 
who  dealt  with  the  art  of  poetry  largely  as  an  art.  It 
practically  compelled  him  to  resort  to  untried  methods 


METRICAL  FORMS  THEN  IN  USE  299 

for  its  development.  We  can  concede  that  what  he  did 
was  a matter  of  necessity;  but  that  did  not  make  his 
work  any  the  less  easy,  nor  does  it  diminish  the  credit 
to  which  he  is  entitled  for  the  success  with  which  he 
met. 

When  Chaucer  began  the  practice  of  poetical  compo- 
sition, it  may  be  roughly  said  that  there  were  three 
kinds  of  verse  in  common  use.  There  are,  indeed,  many 
productions  which  would  not  fall  under  any  one  of  the 
heads  about  to  be  described.  Some  of  them,  too,  are 
works  of  great  length,  as,  for  instance,  the  ' Chronicle  ’ 
of  Robert  of  Gloucester.  Still,  the  metrical  forms  em- 
ployed in  them  cannot  be  said  to  have  been  in  common 
use,  in  spite  of  their  use  by  individual  writers.  It  is 
only  these  three,  therefore,  that  need  to  be  considered 
here.  The  first  was  the  ancient  alliterative  verse,  the 
original  metrical  form  of  the  poetry  of  the  Teutonic 
race  in  all  its  branches.  It  was  a favorite  of  the  men 
who  spoke  the  dialect  of  the  North,  and  held  its  place 
in  that  quarter  till  the  sixteenth  century.  Its  greatest 
representative  work — the  ‘Vision  of  Piers  Plowman’ — 
was  the  production,  however,  of  a man  of  the  South  and 
a contemporary  of  Chaucer.  There  was,  in  the  second 
place,  the  ryming  verse,  more  or  less  joined  with  allit- 
eration, which  was  mainly  given  up  to  the  recitals  of 
tales  of  adventure  and  the  impossible  deeds  of  mythical 
knights.  These  were  in  stanzas  of  different  numbers  of 
lines  as  well  as  of  lines  consisting  of  a different  number 
of  syllables  in  the  same  stanza.  But,  however  different 
in  detail,  there  was  between  all  these  productions  a fam- 
ily likeness.  It  extended  to  the  structure  of  the  verse 


300  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

and  to  the  nature  of  the  story.  It  has  been  said  that 
the  poems  of  this  class  had  degenerated  at  the  time 
Chaucer  wrote.  This  is  hardly  true.  They  had  never 
fallen  because  they  had  never  risen.  None  of  them  repre- 
sented a grade  of  achievement  from  which  much  degen- 
eration was  possible.  At  that  period  no  man  of  genius 
had  ever  made  use  of  the  form  in  which  they  appeared. 
As  it  adapted  itself,  however,  with  fatal  facility  to  sing- 
song, it  had  been  from  the  outset  seized  upon  and  made 
the  prey  of  the  whole  pack  of  poetical  versifiers,  who 
cared  little  for  what  they  wrote  if  it  only  rymed  and 
rattled  easily.  The  consequence  was  that  it  had  be- 
come associated  with,  and  almost  consecrated  to,  purely 
mechanical  work.  It  was  especially  characterized  by  a 
certain  number  of  phrases  lugged  in,  whether  appro- 
priate or  not,  to  fill  out  the  measure  or  to  preserve  the 
ryme.  A fair  specimen  of  it  can  be  seen  in  the  tale  of 
Sir  Thopas,  in  which  Chaucer  exemplified  the  style,  and 
took  occasion  to  put  into  the  mouth  of  the  Host  a very 
vigorous  opinion  of  the  character  of  the  production  it 
typified. 

In  no  case  did  the  poet  make  a serious  attempt  to 
write  in  either  of  the  measures  just  described.  The  short 
tale  composed  in  the  one  was  only  for  the  sake  of  dis- 
crediting the  verse  it  employed.  The  other  was  some- 
thing apparently  foreign  to  his  tastes.  The  superiority 
of  ryme  to  alliterative  verse  had  caused  the  latter  to  be 
abandoned  among  all  the  Teutonic  nations.  Chaucer 
himself  was  too  great  an  artist  as  well  as  too  wise  a man 
to  intrust  the  expression  of  his  ideas  to  a decaying  form. 
Outside  of  these  two  there  was  but  one  measure  of  first 


OCTOSYLLABIC  VERSE 


301 

importance.  This  was  the  octosyllabic  verse.  It  was  a 
favorite  in  his  time,  and  was  perhaps  the  most  widely 
employed  of  any,  especially  for  narrative  purposes.  It 
had  qualities,  too,  which  have  always  led  to  its  use  in 
English  versification.  It  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that 
Chaucer  began  with  the  practice  of  it,  though  this  is 
something  that  we  can  never  positively  know.  That  he 
continued  to  employ  it  down  to  a somewhat  late  period 
in  his  literary  career  is  almost  certain.  It  is  equally  cer- 
tain that  he  learned  early  to  recognize  its  insufficiency. 
It  could  be  easy  and  animated ; but  volume,  sonorous- 
ness, majesty,  these  were  qualities  it  could  rarely,  if  ever, 
attain.  The  ryme  was  “ light  and  lewed,”  he  tells  us  in 
one  place,  and  it  could  be  made  agreeable ; but  outside 
of  a certain  limited  range  it  was  not  capable  of  great 
effects.  Moreover,  it  had  always  a tendency  to  degen- 
erate into  mere  doggerel.  To  guard  against  this  ever- 
besetting  danger  required  an  effort  of  attention  on  the 
part  of  the  writer  to  the  demands  of  which  genius 
itself  was  not  always  able  to  respond.  The  tediousness 
of  the  monotony  it  could  assume  when  it  fell  into  the 
hands  of  a man  who  did  not  possess  genius,  no  reader 
of  the  more  than  thirty  thousand  lines  of  the  ‘ Confessio 
Amantis  ’ needs  to  be  told. 

In  place  of  this,  Chaucer  introduced  the  line  of  ten 
syllables,  the  present  English  heroic  couplet.  The  lan- 
guage applied  to  both  these  metrical  forms  is  strictly 
true,  it  ought  to  be  said,  of  modern  usage  rather  than 
of  ancient.  It  is  technically  more  proper  to  call  the  one 
a line  of  five  accents- and  the  other  a line  of  four  ; for  in 
the  earliest  periods  there  was  often  an  unaccented  extra 


302 


CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 


syllable  at  the  end  of  each.  This,  however,  is  not  a mat- 
ter of  importance  in  the  present  discussion,  and  needs 
here  nothing  more  than  a reference.  That  no  one  before 
Chaucer’s  time  had  consciously  used  the  decasyllabic 
line  at  all,  cannot  be  said.  The  writers  of  octosyllabic 
verse,  little  scrupulous  about  regularity,  seem  occasion- 
ally to  have  fallen  into  it  by  accident.  It  would  be  even 
too  much  to  say  that  no  one  before  Chaucer  had  ever 
used  it  for  an  entire  poem  ; for  it  cannot  be  foreseen 
what  the  yet  unprinted  literature  of  the  Middle  Ages 
may  come  to  reveal.  Some  men  may  have  resorted  to  the 
measure  by  design,  just  as  others  would  be  occasionally 
betrayed  into  it  by  unskilfulness.  There  are  productions 
of  the  fourteenth  century,  passages  in  which  are  open 
to  the  suspicion  of  having  been  composed  in  decasyl- 
labic verse ; at  least  that  there  was  an  intention  to  that 
effect  on  the  part  of  the  author.  So  rude  and  irregular, 
however,  is  its  use  that  no  certain  inference  of  that  nat- 
ure could  be  drawn  even  in  the  case  of  a single  line. 

Still,  facts  of  the  kind  asserted,  and  possibilities  of  the 
kind  indicated,  render  it  unsafe  to  maintain  that  Chau- 
cer was,  in  one  sense  of  the  words,  either  the  inventor  or 
the  introducer  of  the  English  heroic  verse.  In  every 
proper  sense  he  was.  No  one  before  him  was  aware  of 
the  capabilities  that  lay  latent  in  the  line,  or  was  ade- 
quate to  the  task  of  developing  them  even  if  he  had 
known.  It  is  of  little  consequence,  therefore,  whether 
he  borrowed  the  idea  of  it  directly  from  some  forgotten 
native  writer,  or  had  its  adoption  indirectly  suggested  to 
him  by  the  observation  he  made  of  it,  as  it  was  exhibited 
in  foreign  tongues.  What  entitles  him  to  the  name  of 


HEROIC  VERSE  303 

its  inventor  is  the  fact  that  he  was  the  first  to  reveal  its 
capabilities.  The  verse  of  five  accents  that  was  in  use 
before  him,  so  far  as  it  could  be  said  to  exist  at  all,  was 
formless  and  void.  It  was  without  melody  and  without 
strength.  It  was  Chaucer  who  gave  distinction  to  the 
line.  It  was  Chaucer  who  made  it  an  instrument  of  ex- 
pression such  as  the  language  had  never  possessed  be- 
fore. For  the  first  time  English  literature  had  a vehicle 
for  sustaining  the  loftiest  and  longest-sustained  flights 
of  the  imagination,  as  well  as  for  giving  utterance  to 
those  pointed  phrases  that  appeal  to  the  intellect  rather 
than  to  the  soul.  With  its  other  measures  it  had  been 
possible  for  it  to  show  spirit  and  grace.  Now  it  could 
not  only  show  them  to  better  advantage,  but  it  was  ena- 
bled, as  never  before,  to  impart  dignity  and  power,  and, 
above  all,  a majesty  of  movement  which  the  octosyllabic 
verse  was  absolutely  incapable  of  furnishing.  From  the 
poet’s  day  to  our  own  this  has  remained  one  of  the 
most  honored  of  English  measures.  The  form,  it  is  true, 
has  undergone  various  modifications.  The  unaccented 
eleventh  syllable  now  rarely  appears.  The  termination 
of  the  sense  with  the  second  line  of  the  couplet  has  sup- 
planted the  tendency  to  carry  it  on  to  the  first  line  of 
the  following  couplet,  which  is  a very  marked  peculiarity 
of  the  measure  as  it  was  used  by  Chaucer.  But  in  all 
essential  qualities  it  is  the  same  that  it  was  as  it  came 
from  the  hands  of  its  creator  in  the  fourteenth  century. 
There  is  nothing  to  be  compared  to  the  influence  it  has 
wielded  in  literary  history,  unless  we  make  an  exception 
in  favor  of  blank  verse. 

But  the  introduction  of  the  heroic  measure,  though 


304 


CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  A^  - IST 


the  greatest  single  service  that  Chaucer  rendered  to 
English  versification,  was  not  the  only  one.  Another 
was  the  creation  of  the  seven-line  stanza,  with  lines  of 
five  accents  and  with  three  rymes.  This  form  is  usually 
said  to  have  been  taken  from  the  French.  From  the 
Italian  ottava  rima  it  differs  only  by  the  omission  of  the 
fifth  line.  Chaucer’s  invention  of  the  measure — I use 
invention  solely  in  reference  to  English  poetry — has 
never  been  questioned.  It  was  largely  employed  by  him 
during  the  whole  of  his  career.  For  a long  time  after  it 
was  one  of  the  most  widely  employed  of  metrical  forms. 
In  popularity  it  exceeded  at  the  outset  the  rymed  coup- 
let which  has  just  been  mentioned.  The  latter  was 
comparatively  little  used  for  the  two  hundred  years 
that  followed  Chaucer’s  death.  The  poems  written 
in  it,  moreover,  such  as  the  ‘ Story  of  Thebes,’  which 
Lydgate  designed  as  a supplementary  Canterbury  tale, 
are  as  inferior  in  mechanical  execution  as  they  are  in 
poetical  spirit.  The  mastery  of  the  rymed  couplet  seems, 
indeed,  to  have  been  much  harder  to  acquire  than  that 
of  the  seven-line  stanza,  though  we  should  naturally 
have  expected  the  reverse  to  be  the  case.  It  is  evident 
from  the  references  made  to  the  former  measure  in  the 
sixteenth  century  that  the  men  of  that  day  had  no  con- 
ception of  the  great  part  it  was  to  play,  and  soon  to  play, 
in  English  literature. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  seven-line  stanza  was  a favor- 
ite one,  perhaps  it  may  justly  be  called  the  favorite 
one,  with  the  immediate  followers  of  the  poet.  Lydgate 
and  Occleve  use  it  very  frequently.  It  is  the  measure 
to  which  James  1.  of  Scotland  resorted  in  the  ‘ Kinges 


RYME  ROYAL 


305 


Quair.’  It  is  apparently  from  the  fact  of  his  employ- 
ing it  in  that  work  that  it  received  the  name  of  “ ryme 
royal.”  In  it  were  composed  also  many  of  the  spurious 
poems  which  came  to  be  attributed  to  Chaucer.  It  con- 
tinued to  be  a favorite  measure  for  long  productions  and 
for  productions  on  grave  subjects.  Among  the  many 
notorious,  if  not  noted,  works  that  were  written  in  it  may 
be  mentioned  Barclay’s  version  of  Brandt’s  ‘ Ship  of 
Fools,’  the  greater  portion  of  Hawes’s  ‘ Pastime  of 
Pleasure,’  and  later  still  many  of  the  dolorous  pieces 
that  make  up  the  ‘ Mirror  for  Magistrates.’  Its  popu- 
larity, indeed,  lasted  to  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury. If  we  can  trust  the  critical  essays  of  that  period, 
it  was  held  in  distinctly  higher  estimation  than  the  he- 
roic verse  which,  from  its  use  in  the  ‘ Canterbury  Tales,’ 
was  then  usually  called  ‘‘  riding  ryme.”  The  latter  was 
thought  little  suited  for  the  majesty  of  the  higher  poe- 
try. In  the  work  which  is  usually  ascribed  to  Putten- 
ham,  its  inferiority  to  the  seven-line  stanza  is  clearly 
implied,  though  not  absolutely  asserted.  Gascoigne  ex- 
presses the  common  opinion.^  “As  this  riding  ryme,” 
he  remarked  in  1575,  “ serveth  most  aptly  to  write  a 
merry  tale,  so  rhythm  royal  is  fittest  for  a grave  dis- 
course.” This  comparative  estimate  had  no  foundation 
in  reality.  It -naturally  ceased  to  exist  with  the  disap- 
pearance of  one  of  the  objects  compared.  For  in  spite 
of  the  temporary  superiority  accorded  to  it,  and  of  its 
long-continued  use,  ryme  royal  had  not  the  vitality  of 
the  heroic  verse.  After  the  introduction  of  the  Spense- 

1 Gascoigne’s  Certain  Notes  of  Instruction  Concer7iing  the  Making  of 
Verse  or  Ryme  in  English. 

III.— 20 


306  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

rian  stanza,  the  superior  swell  of  that  measure  gave  it  a 
precedence  which  it  has  ever  since  retained. 

It  was  in  the  three  measures  mentioned — the  octosyl- 
labic ryming  couplet,  the  seven-line  stanza,  and  the  he- 
roic couplet  — that  far  the  greatest  part  of  Chaucer’s 
poetry  was  written.  It  is  also  probable  that  the  order 
just  given  is  the  one  in  which  they  were  successively 
employed  by  him  in  his  literary  development,  though 
this  is  something  of  which  we  can  never  be  sure.  It  is 
certain  that  the  order  represents  the  comparative  amount 
of  his  production  in  each  that  has  been  preserved,  even 
if  we  include  as  his  the  extant  translation  of  the  Roman 
de  la  Rose.  Whether  the  existing  fragment  be  the  work 
of  Chaucer,  or  of  some  one  else,  the  English  version 
which  he  made  could  hardly  have  failed  to  be  like  its 
original  in  the  measure  which  was  adopted.  If,  then,  he 
translated  the  whole  of  it,  his  poetry  in  the  octosyllabic 
verse  would  constitute  in  that  case  a much  larger  pro- 
portion of  his  entire  production,  and  the  largest  propor- 
tion of  the  three  forms  employed.  If  we  leave  that  out 
of  the  question,  as  in  our  uncertainty  we  are  obliged  to 
do,  the  result  is  what  has  just  been  stated.  The  amount 
of  original  matter  is  comparatively  small  which  he  pro- 
duced in  the  form  of  verse  that  he  found  in  fashion 
when  he  began  to  write.  There  are  left  us,  in  fact,  but 
two  independent  poems  in  this  measure — the  ‘ Death  of 
Blanche  ’ and  the  ‘ House  of  Fame.’  Together  they  fall 
a little  short  of  thirty-five  hundred  lines.  In  the  seven- 
line stanza  he  composed  over  fourteen  thousand  lines ; 
in  the  heroic  verse  about  sixteen  thousand.  As  all  of 
Chaucer’s  unquestioned  poetry  that  is  extant  consists  of 


NATURALIZATION  OF  FOREIGN  MEASURES  30/ 

about  thirty-five  thousand  lines,  these  figures  make  very 
clear  how  much  of  what  he  produced  was  in  metrical 
forms  of  his  own  introduction  or  creation.  He  had 
doubtless  found  them  after  trial  the  ones  best  suited  to 
the  work  he  had  set  out  to  accomplish. 

But  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  measures  men- 
tioned were  the  only  ones  that  Chaucer  attempted. 
There  remain  about  fifteen  hundred  lines  which  exhibit 
an  unusual  diversity  of  metrical  forms.  Outside  of  any 
literary  value  they  may  have,  they  are  of  value  as  prov- 
ing the  interest  the  poet  took  in  the  purely  technical 
side  of  his  art.  They  exhibit  the  extensive  experiments 
he  made  in  the  introduction  or  invention  of  new  modes 
of  poetical  expression.  They  likewise  evince  his  clear 
perception  of  the  obstacles  that  stood  in  the  way  of  their 
general  use.  The  question  of  naturalizing  foreign  meas- 
ures must  have  been  a matter  constantly  before  his  mind. 
It  was  a burden  almost  thrown  upon  him  by  the  anoma- 
lousness of  the  position  in  which  he  was  placed.  He 
stood  at  the  beginning  of  a literature  with  very  inade- 
quate means  of  expression.  The  double  duty  rested 
upon  him,  therefore,  not  only  of  finding  the  matter  he 
wished  to  convey,  but  the  vehicle  by  which  it  could  be 
best  conveyed.  Posterity  has  ratified  the  sagacity  which 
led  him  to  adopt  finally  the  heroic  couplet,  the  measure 
he  most  often  employed  in  his  later  productions.  He 
clearly  came  to  look  upon  that  metrical  form  as  the  one 
best  suited  to  his  own  genius,  if  not  to  the  genius  of  the 
language.  But  he  pretty  certainly  came  to  that  decision 
not  instinctively,  but  as  a conclusion  drawn  from  obser- 
vation and  experience  based  upon  the  examination  and 


308  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

trial  of  other  forms.  The  work  he  did  in  these,  so  far 
as  it  has  been  preserved,  is  itself  convincing  evidence  of 
the  extent  to  which  the  consciously  artistic  side  of  his 
nature  was  developed,  in  contradistinction  to  the  purely 
poetical. 

The  first  of  these  to  be  mentioned  is  the  stanza  of 
eight  lines  with  three  rymes.  It  was  borrowed  from  the 
French.  Though  the  number  of  lines  is  the  same  as  in 
the  ottava  rhna,  the  arrangement  is  different.  It  is,  in- 
deed, a verse  of  greater  difficulty  in  itself,  because  every 
stanza  contains  four  lines  that  ryme  against  the  three 
of  the  Italian.  The  measure  is  used  by  Chaucer  in 
about  half  a dozen  poems.  Two  of  them — the  ‘ABC’ 
and  the  ‘Former  Age’ — are  among  the  very  finest  of 
his  minor  productions.  Still,  the  most  conspicuous  as 
well  as  the  longest  instance  of  its  use  is  in  the  Monk’s 
tale.  I suspect  that  it  was  partly  the  difficulty  of  the 
verse  that  led  Chaucer  to  make  his  knight  interrupt  that 
lugubrious  narrative,  and  not  altogether  the  distasteful- 
ness of  the  subject.  The  number  of  lines  he  composed  in 
this  measure  amounts  to  but  a few  over  twelve  hundred. 
Two  of  the  pieces  written  in  it  are  ballades,  as  we  shall 
presently  see.‘  In  one  of  these  two — the  ‘ Complaint  of 
Venus’  — the  arrangement  of  rymes  is  different  from 
that  which  is  found  in  all  the  other  pieces  that  belong 
to  this  group. 

Difficult  as  was  this  measure,  there  were  others  far 
more  difficult  that  the  poet  attempted.  In  the  ‘ Com- 
plaint of  Mars,’  as  distinguished  from  the  story  that  in- 
troduces it,  he  has  used  a stanza  of  nine  lines  with  three 

^ See,  however,  Appendix  to  this  volume. 


EXPERIMENTS  IN  VERSIFICATION  309 

rymes.  These  are  divided  in  the  proportion  of  four, 
three,  and  two.  But  it  is  in  the  ‘Complaint  of  Anelida’ 
in  the  poem  of  ‘ Anelida  and  Arcite  ’ that  he  seems  to 
have  given  a loose  rein  to  his  fondness  for  unusual  met- 
rical forms  and  for  daring  experiments  in  versification. 
Most  of  its  fifteen  verses  are  written  in  a nine-line  stanza 
consisting  of  but  two  rymes.  As  if  this  did  not  present 
difficulty  enough,  he  took  care  to  introduce  variations, 
none  of  which  erred  on  the  side  of  ease  of  production. 
One  stanza  has  running  through  it  but  one  ryme.  Two 
other  stanzas  not  only  have  the  regular  terminal  ryme, 
but  every  line  has  in  addition  an  internal  ryme  of  its 
own,  different  from  the  terminal.  There  are,  besides,  two 
stanzas  which  consist  of  sixteen  lines  instead  of  the  usual 
nine ; but  in  spite  of  the  increase  that  way,  the  number 
of  rymes  is  not  increased.  They  still  remain  but  two. 

Even  these  somewhat  extraordinary  examples  of  ver- 
sification he  surpassed  elsewhere.  At  the  end  of  the 
Clerk  of  Oxford’s  tale  he  has  given  us  an  envoy  of  six 
six-line  stanzas.  The  peculiar  thing  about  the  conclu- 
sion to  this  poem  is  that  in  the  thirty-six  lines  of  which 
it  is  composed  there  are  but  two  rymes.  Almost  as  dif- 
ficult a thing  was  accomplished  by  him  in  the  two  speci- 
mens he  has  left  us  of  the  ballades  in  eight-line  stanzas. 
The  one  entitled  the  ‘Complaint  of  Venus’  is  certainly 
a translation.  The  same  statement  is  probably  true  of 
the  other,  which  consists  of  a dialogue  between  Fortune 
and  one  complaining  of  her  conduct.  Both  of  these 
poems  conform  to  the  character  of  the  French  ballade. 
The  stanzas  are  accordingly  arranged  in  sets  of  three, 
and  in  each  of  the  twenty-four  lines  there  are  but  three 


310  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

rymes.  The  difficulty  is  less,  but  only  slightly  less,  in 
the  ballades  he  produced  in  the  stanza  of  seven  lines. 
The  three  rymes,  in  this  case,  run  through  twenty-one 
lines.  Of  these,  however,  he  has  left  us  but  few  exam- 
ples, and  all  of  them  are  short  poems. 

There  is  a perhaps  even  more  significant  imitation  of 
foreign  measures  than  any  of  those  which  have  been  men- 
tioned. Most  of  the  pieces  that  Stow  added  to  the  edi- 
tion of  1561  are  not  only  worthless  in  comparison  with 
other  productions  of  the  poet,  but  they  are,  moreover, 
worthless  as  poetry.  This  has  led  to  the  exclusion  of 
nearly  all  of  them  from  modern  editions.  To  this  general 
censure  there  are  one  or  two  exceptions.  One  of  these  is 
an  imperfectly  preserved  poem  which  is  introduced  with 
the  statement  that  “ these  verses  next  following  were 
compiled  by  Geffray  Chauser,  and  in  the  writen  copies 
foloweth  at  the  end  of  the  Complainte  of  Petee.”  This 
is  not  of  itself  satisfactory  evidence  as  to  the  genuine- 
ness of  the  production.  But  this  particular  piece  has 
also  been  preserved  in  a manuscript  written  by  the  well- 
known  copyist  Shirley.  By  him  it  was  expressly  ascribed 
to  the  poet.  From  that  it  was  printed  in  1871  by  Mr. 
Furnivall  in  the  appendix  to  Part  i.  of  the  ‘ Odd  Texts 
of  the  Minor  Poems.’  The  internal  evidence  in  its  favor 
is,  moreover,  of  the  strongest  character.  It  is  full  of 
Chaucer’s  favorite  phrases,  his  peculiarities  of  diction, 
and  his  modes  of  thought.  While  it  does  not  rank  with 
his  best  productions,  it  is  likewise  by  no  means  un- 
worthy of  his  powers.  That,  however,  which  makes  it 
specially  interesting  is  not  its  greatness  as  a poem,  but 
its  metrical  character.  It  opens  with  two  stanzas  in 


EXPERIMENTS  IN  VERSIFICATION 


311 


the  seven-line  measure.  It  concludes  with  nine  in  a pe- 
culiarly complicated  ten-line  measure  that  is  found  no- 
where else  in  his  writings.  There  is,  indeed,  one  stanza 
of  ten  lines  in  the  dedicatory  conclusion  of  the  ‘ Com- 
plaint of  Venus;’  but  that  consists  of  but  two  rymes, 
while  in  this  production  there  are  four.  The  most  re- 
markable peculiarity  of  the  poem,  however,  is  that  the 
portion  of  it  contained  between  the  two  kinds  of  stanza 
mentioned  is  a direct  imitation  of  the  Italian  terza  rima. 
It  was  pretty  certainly  the  first,  and  apparently  it  long 
remained  the  only,  attempt  to  naturalize  that  measure 
in  English  versification.  The  work  was  left  in  an  im- 
perfect state.  It  may  never  have  been  fully  finished  by 
its  author.  The  chief  value  it  has  for  us  is  the  illustra- 
tion it  furnishes  of  the  extent  of  the  interest  which 
Chaucer  took  in  poetry  as  an  art.' 

No  such  difficult  feats  of  versification  have  been  at- 
tempted in  our  tongue  by  a poet  of  the  first  rank. 
They  were  not  attempted  in  ignorance  of  what  was  in- 
volved in  the  task.  Chaucer  had  a perfectly  clear  con- 
ception of  the  complex  and  artificial  character  of  these 
measures  and  of  the  obstacles  that  stood  in  the  way  of 
their  naturalization.  That  the  number  of  rymes  in  our 
language  is  limited,  that  in  consequence  the  resources 
for  variation  both  of  thought  and  expression  are  limited, 
was  something  which  he  recognized  as  plainly  as  the 


^ This  production  has  been  care- 
fully edited  and  included  by  Prof. 
Skeat  in  his  edition  of  Chaucer's 
Minor  Poems,  with  a full  account 
of  its  metrical  peculiarities.  From 
his  work  I have  derived  much  of 
the  information  given  above.  It  is, 
however,  an  oversight  to  speak  of  its 


ten-line  stanza  as  having  been  after- 
wards employed  in  the  Complaint  of 
Anelida.  In  the  Academy  of  July 
13,  i88g,  he  has  also  mentioned  the 
discovery  by  Mr.  Furnivall  of  a sec- 
ond manuscript  copy  of  the  poem, 
which  contains  an  additional  stanza 
to  the  one  printed  by  him. 


312  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

many  modern  experimenters  in  these  metrical  forms, 
who  can  call  to  their  aid,  as  he  could  not,  a ryming  dic- 
tionary. He  has  not  neglected  to  put  upon  record  his 
feelings  upon  the  subject.  In  the  dedicatory  envoy  of 
his  translation  of  the  ‘Complaint  of  Venus’  he  apologizes 
for  its  imperfection  because  his  skill  in  writing  had  been 
impaired  by  the  coming-on  of  old-age  that  had  dulled 
his  spirit.  To  this  he  added  a comment  upon  the  diffi- 
culty of  reproducing  in  our  tongue  the  artificial  struct- 
ure and  involved  arrangement  of  the  original.  “To  me,” 
he  said, 

“ It  is  a great  penance, 

Sith  ryme  in  English  hath  such  scarcity, 

To  follow  word  by  word  the  curiosity^ 

Of  Gransoun,  flower  of  hem^  that  makeMn  France.” 

The  apology  was  hardly  necessary.  Age  certainly  had 
not  much  dulled  the  art,  however  much  it  may  have 
daunted  the  spirit,  of  one  who  could  successfully  ac- 
complish a feat  of  this  kind. 

There  were  doubtless  other  experiments  made  by 
Chaucer  in  English  versification  which  have  not  come 
down  to  us.  On  this  point  we  have  his  own  testimony 
as  well  as  that  of  his  contemporaries.  Besides  ballades 
already  mentioned,  he  asserts  that  he  has  written  both 
roundels  and  virelays.  But  of  these  latter  scarcely  any 
have  survived.  None  can  be  attributed  to  him  with 
confidence,  save  the  roundel  first  printed  by  Percy  in 
his  ‘ Reliques,’  and  the  one  contained  in  the  ‘Parliament 
of  Fowls.’  Even  this  latter  is  to  be  found  in  only  a few 
of  the  manuscripts.  Moreover,  confidence  may  be  felt 


^ Elaborate  arrangement. 


^ Them. 


2 Write  poetry. 


EXPERIMENTS  IN  VERSIFICATION  313 

that  other  things  of  the  kind  that  have  been  attrib- 
uted to  him  were  not  his  composition.  They  certainly 
exhibit  nowhere  any  trace  of  his  genius.  Had,  how- 
ever, all  his  shorter  poems  been  preserved,  there  is 
reason  to  believe  that  we  should  have  illustrations  from 
his  pen  of  almost  every  variety  of  metrical  form  which 
the  restless  activity  and  artistic  spirit  of  the  French  au- 
thors had  created.  It  is  probable  that  poetry,  as  distinct 
from  the  poetic  art,  has  not  suffered  any  material  loss  by 
the  disappearance  of  these  attempts.  Enough  remain 
to  establish  the  truth  of  Chaucer’s  claim  for  himself,  and 
of  the  claim  which  has  been  made  for  him.  They  show 
conclusively  that  at  that  early  period  he  had  attained  a 
skill  in  his  art  which  places  him  in  the  front  rank  of  me- 
trists  in  the  knowledge  he  displays  and  the  mastery  he 
had  gained  of  mere  technique.  This  is  not  necessarily 
a great  achievement.  It  does  satisfactorily  prove — and 
this  is  all  which  at  present  concerns  us — that  his  poetry 
was  no  mere  product  of  inspiration  which  chooses  with- 
out forethought  the  form  in  which  it  shall  find  expres- 
sion. On  the  contrary,  it  was  the  result  of  both  con- 
scientious and  concious  study  of  his  art  as  an  art. 

I have  spent  so  much  time  in  clearing  away  the  rub- 
bish that  has  accumulated  upon  this  point  for  the  sake 
of  showing  Chaucer’s  exact  position  in  the  matter,  and 
not  from  any  conviction  that  the  matter  is  one  of  special 
importance.  Most  of  his  work,  and  his  greatest  work, 
was  accomplished  in  comparatively  simple  measures. 
In  this  respect  he  is  like  all  the  world’s  mighty  poets. 
It  is  possible  that  one  reason  why  so  few  of  his  pieces 
in  complex  measures  have  survived  is  that  he  himself 


314  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

may  not  have  been  specially  solicitous  about  their  pres- 
ervation. Their  composition  may  have  been  regarded 
by  him  as  an  amusement  rather  than  a serious  effort. 
In  a tongue  so  deficient  in  ryme  as  ours  he  could  hardly 
have  failed  to  see  that  the  merit  of  pieces  of  this  nature 
will  almost  inevitably  lie  rather  in  the  execution  than  in 
the  sentiment,  and  furthermore  that  the  merit  of  the  ex- 
ecution consists  largely  in  its  difficulty.  It  is  the  poetry 
not  of  art,  but  of  artifice,  though  often  of  artifice  in  a 
very  high  sense.  The  almost  unavoidable  consequence 
is  that  the  production  strikes  us  not  as  a birth,  but  as  a 
manufacture.  It  is  a manufacture,  too,  which  is  capable 
of  being  reproduced  scores  of  times  by  scores  of  persons 
after  once  the  secret  of  the  device  has  been  ascertained. 
Therefore  we  usually  admire  them,  if  we  find  them  ad- 
mirable at  all,  as  feats  of  intellectual  skill  rather  than  as 
products  of  the  inspired  imagination.  We  find  ourselves 
wondering  at  the  ingenuity  of  the  poet,  little  at  the 
beauty  of  the  poem.  Accordingly,  while  we  may  be 
pleased,  amused,  or  interested  by  it,  rarely  is  it  that  we 
are  stirred.  The  very  orthodoxy  of  form,  the  mechani- 
cal correctness  of  the  lines,  the  peculiar  difficulty  of  the 
ryme,  tend  to  give  the  piece  an  artificiality,  an  unnat- 
uralness, a certain  falsetto  tone,  the  impression  of  which 
can  only  be  overcome  by  genius  of  a high  order,  and  not 
always  by  it.  Work  of  this  kind  is,  in  truth,  usually 
produced  by  men  who  are  artists,  and  sometimes  great 
artists,  in  poetry  as  distinguished  from  great  poets.  It 
is  accordingly  not  so  much  what  they  say  that  interests 
us  as  the  way  in  which  they  say  it. 

This  is,  to  some  extent  at  least,  true  of  Chaucer’s  own 


EXPERIMENTS  IN  VERSIFICATION  315 

experiments  in  versification.  These,  it  is  fair  to  add,  he 
was  compelled  by  his  position  to  make.  By  that  fact 
he  was  placed  at  a certain  disadvantage.  He  who  at 
any  time  sets  out  to  invent  or  to  introduce  new  modes 
of  poetic  expression  is  under  the  necessity  of  paying  a 
heavy  price  for  his  venture.  What  he  gains  in  variety, 
he  loses  in  spontaneity.  This  is  the  inevitable  fatality 
that  hangs  over  unusual  metrical  forms.  The  pioneer 
in  these  efforts  must  always  sacrifice  something  because 
he  is  a pioneer.  That  he  should  be  a pioneer  was  a 
necessity  of  Chaucer’s  situation.  It  is  his  distinction 
that  to  genius  was  added  a mastery  of  his  art  so  com- 
plete that  the  forms  of  verse  of  which  he  mainly  made 
use  proved  so  adequate  for  the  purpose  they  were  in- 
tended to  serve  that  poetic  expression  seemed  naturally 
to  fall  into  them  of  its  own  accord.  It  was  different 
with  the  other  measures  which  at  times  he  tried.  His 
genius  enabled  him  to  give  them  in  individual  instances 
a charm  which  none  of  his  successors  could  impart  to 
similar  productions  of  their  own.  With  what  exquisite 
skill  he  managed  the  ryme  can  be  seen  in  a verse  like 
this,  in  which  a lover  is  represented  as  giving  a descrip- 
tion of  his  mistress : 

“This  is  no  feigned  matter  that  I tell; 

My  lady  is  the  very  source  and  well 
Of  beauty,  lust,^  freedom,^  and  gentleness. 

Of  rich  array,  how  deare  men  it  sell. 

Of  all  disport  in  which  men  friendly  dwell, 

Of  love  and  play  and  of  benign  humblesse, 

Of  sound  of  instruments  of  all  sweetness. 


* Delight. 


Liberality. 


3i6  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

And  therto  so  well  fortuned  and  thewed' 

That  through  the  world  her  goodness  is  y-shewed.”^ 

There  are  whole  poems  of  Chaucer  written  in  these  diffi- 
cult measures  which  are  on  a uniformly  high  level  of  in- 
spiration. But  they  are  not  numerous.  Of  the  seven 
or  eight  ballades  that  have  been  preserved  none  reach 
the  elevation  of  the  poems  that  are  written  in  the  sim- 
pler metres.  But  these  pieces  will  always  have  a special 
value  for  the  positive  proof  they  furnish  that  Chaucer 
was  profoundly  interested  in  the  technique  of  his  art. 
This  is  a matter  that  would  never  have  been  present  to 
his  thoughts  at  all,  had  he  been  merely  the  inspired  bar-^ 
barian  that  for  a long  period  he  had  the  reputation  of 
being. 

So  much  for  this  side  of  his  poetic  development. 
These  various  and  sometimes  daring  experiments  in 
versification  would  have  raised  Chaucer  to  a prominent 
position  as  a literary  artist,  even  had  his  execution  been 
much  inferior  to  what  it  actually  was.  There  is,  how- 
ever, nothing  peculiar  in  the  attention  on  his  part  to 
technique.  In  the  construction  of  the  plot,  in  the  nar- 
ration of  the  story,  there  is  the  same  progressive  develop- 
ment as  in  the  mastery  of  the  verse.  Here,  as  before,  we 
see  the  working  of  the  conscious  intellect,  aware  of  its 
deficiencies,  painfully  perfecting  its  methods,  and  gain- 
ing felicity  and  strength  with  added  knowledge  and  with 
advancing  skill.  The  power  he  finally  displayed  was  not 
the  result  of  chance  impulse  or  accidental  inspiration. 
It  came  from  prolonged  and  careful  study.  Even  in  the 


^ Endowed  with  good  fortune  and  Complaint  of  Mars,  lines  173- 
good  morals.  1 8 1. 


CARE  AND  LABOR  DISPLAYED  317 

matter  of  language,  close  examination  reveals  how  great 
was  the  labor  to  attain  the  apparent  absence  of  labor,  to 
exhibit  the  clearness  and  happiness  of  expression  which 
makes  Chaucer  one  of  the  easiest  of  authors  to  be  under' 
stood.  The  variations  of  the  manuscripts  are  in  many 
cases  evidences  of  the  care  exercised  by  the  poet.  The 
changes,  omissions,  and  additions  must  often  have  been 
his  work.  It  is  certainly  safe  to  assert  that  the  matter 
of  revision  was  never  absent  from  his  thoughts.  What 
he  had  to  do  constantly  we  can  discover  by  what  he  oc- 
casionally left  undone.  The  suspicion,  in  fact,  forces 
itself  upon  the  mind  that  some  of  his  poems  were  never 
finished  because  he  could  not  spare  the  time  and  labor 
required  to  mould  them  into  a form  satisfactory  to  his 
artistic  conscience.  . 

In  one  of  his  most  famous  pieces,  the  half-told  tale  of 
the  Squire,  he  has  incidentally  given  us  an  excellent  op- 
portunity to  contrast  his  work  as  it  appears  in  a com- 
pleted state  and  as  it  appears  in  the  process  of  comple- 
tion. Of  this  tale  but  two  parts  were  ever  produced  in 
any  shape.  But  of  these  two  it  was  the  first  alone  that 
clearly  received  final  revision.  The  contrast  between 
them  is  striking.  In  the  first  part  everything  has  been 
finished,  to  the  minutest  detail,  with  the  perfection  of 
the  great  master.  For  felicity  of  diction,  for  clearness 
of  expression,  it  will  compare  favorably  with  any  portion 
of  the  poet’s  work.  There  are  no  violations  of  gram^ 
matical  rules.  There  are  no  obscurities  of  construction. 
There  are  no  awkward  transitions.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  second  part,  while  complete  in  its  matter,  is  incom- 
plete in  its  manner.  The  broad  outlines  are  filled  in 


3I8  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

carefully  throughout,  and  the  interest  of  the  story  as  a 
story  is  sustained  to  its  conclusion.  But  in  minor  de- 
tails it  shows  various  defects.  There  are  occasional 
lapses  in  its  grammar.  Lines  are  awkwardly  interposed, 
breaking  up  the  continuity  of  the  thought.  There  are 
inconsistencies  of  statement  that  can  only  be  explained 
by  forcing  the  meaning  of  words  in  a way  that  Chaucer’s 
completed  work  never  demands.  Sometimes  efforts  of 
any  kind  are  ineffectual  to  secure  this  result.  All  these 
occasional  inaccuracies  show  that  this  part  was  left  by 
the  poet  in  a comparatively  crude  state.  It  is  easy  to 
infer  from  this  one  example  not  only  the  pains  he  took 
in  perfecting  his  language,  but  what  would  have  been 
the  result  had  he  not  taken  the  pains.^ 

This  one  example  is  sufficient  to  prove  the  truth  of 
this  view  so  far  as  regards  clearness  of  expression.  Is  it 


* As  this  is  a question  of  some  im- 
portance, it  may  be  worth  while  to 
point  out  examples  of  these  alleged 
inaccuracies.  For  a violation  of 
grammar,  see  lines  368,  369.  For 
the  insertion  of  details  in  a way  to 
break  up  the  continuity  of  the  nar- 
rative, see  lines  357,  358.  Incon- 
sistencies of  details  are  pretty  fre- 
quent. They  extend  to  ideas  as 
well  as  facts.  The  falcon,  for  in- 
stance, is  described  as  having  beat- 
en herself  with  her  wings  and  torn 
herself  with  her  beak.  Sorrow  for 
death  and  loss  of  love  are  the  only 
two  causes,  Canace  asserts,  that 
could  lead  to  a grief  which  mani- 
fested itself  in  this  way.  But  in  a 
line  that  shortly  follows  it  is  declared 
that  it  is  either  ‘ love  ’ or  ‘ dread  ’ 
that  must  be  the  cause  of  this  cruel 
deed.  That,  however,  it  cannot  be 
dread  is  apparent  from  the  fact  stat- 
ed almost  immediately  after,  that  the 
falcon  has  not  been  made  an  object 


of  pursuit.  The  difficulty  in  the 
matter  would  vanish  if  we  could 
suppose  drede  (line  447)  to  be  an 
error  of  the  scribe  for  dede,  that  is 
‘ death.’  But  all  the  manuscripts 
that  have  been  printed  agree  in 
reading  drede.  In  a later  passage 
Canace  is  represented  as  weeping 
constantly  while  the  falcon  told  her 
story  (lines  487,  488).  Finally,  the 
falcon  bids  her  be  quiet,  and  then 
with  a sigh  begins  to  tell  her  story, 
which  has  already  been  the  cause  of 
so  many  tears.  In  the  first  part  the 
king’s  younger  son,  the  brother  of 
Canace,  is  called  Cambalo  (line  23). 
In  the  second  he  seems  to  appear  as 
Cambalus  (line  648).  This  would 
be  of  no  consequence  were  it  not 
that  Cambalo  appears  later  as  fight- 
ing in  the  lists  with  the  two  brothers 
of  Canace,  one  of  whom  is  Cambalo, 
before  he  could  win  her  (lines  659- 
661). 


ABSENCE  OF  VERBAL  QUIBBLES  319 

true  of  other  and  of  higher  things?  Absolutely  essen- 
tial as  clearness  of  expression  is  to  the  finest  literary  art, 
its  presence  would  not  of  itself  prove  the  existence  of 
such  literary  art.  Nor  is  that  quality  shown  by  the 
absence  in  the  poet’s  writings  of  certain  transgressions 
against  taste  which  have  been  at  various  times  prevalent 
in  our  literature.  These,  indeed,  are  worth  noting.  In 
the  first  place  there  are  no  violent  conceits  in  Chaucer. 
He  is  likewise  free  from  those  verbal  quibbles  which 
characterize  to  so  marked  a degree  the  language  of  the 
greatest  of  the  Elizabethan  dramatists.  The  single  in- 
stance in  which  he  furnishes  any  noticeable  example  of 
this  sort  is  the  play  upon  the  word  “ style  ” in  the  Squire’s 
tale ; ^ though  there  is  possibly  one  of  the  same  char- 
acter in  a line  in  ‘Troilus  and  Cressida,’  where  it  is  said 
that 

“This  Calkas  knew  by  calkulynge,”  i.,  71. 

that  Troy  was  to  be  taken.  Still,  from  conceits  of  all 
kinds  and  of  all  grades  Chaucer’s  language,  at  every 
period  of  his  literary  career,  was  in  general  wholly  free. 
In  this  matter  he  occupied,  apparently  from  the  very  be- 
ginning, the  highest  plane.  Not  so,  however,  with  the 
constructive  skill  he  displayed.  In  the  framing  of  his 
plot,  in  the  method  of  telling  his  story,  and  in  its  order- 
ly development  from  the  beginning  to  the  end,  he  shows 
everywhere  signs  of  steady  advance.  With  the  excep- 
tion of  the  poem  of  ‘Troilus  and  Cressida,’  upon  which 
he  evidently  bestowed  special  care,  and  in  the  writing  of 
which  he  had  before  him  an  exemplar,  his  earlier  works 

* “ A1  be  it  that  I can  not  soune  his  style, 

Ne  can  not  clymben  over  so  hy  a style.” — I.ines  97,  98. 


320  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

exhibit  decided  deficiencies  when  contrasted  with  the 
best  of  his  later  ones.  They  frequently  contain  as  fine 
passages.  It  is  in  their  completed  effect  that  they  fail. 
And  this  failure  is  due  to  the  disregard  of  certain  details 
of  construction  which  were  essential  to  the  perfection  of 
the  work  as  a whole.  The  lack  of  these  would  be  sure 
in  time  to  impress  itself  upon  the  attention  of  one  in 
whom  the  artistic  sense  was  constantly  becoming  more 
developed.  That  it  did  so  in  the  case  of  Chaucer  we 
have  ample  evidence. 

Let  us  take  for  consideration  three  of  the  most  impor- 
tant of  the  earlier  productions — the  ‘ Death  of  Blanche 
the  Duchess,’  the  ‘ Parliament  of  Fowls,’  and  the  ‘ House 
of  Fame.’  All  of  these  have  certain  traits  in  common. 
The  ending  in  the  case  of  the  first  two  is  so  abrupt  that 
it  gives  the  impression  that  the  author  left  off,  not  be- 
cause he  had  got  through  with  what  he  started  out  to 
say,  but  because  he  was  too  tired  to  go  on.  There  is  a 
sense  of  incompleteness  about  the  two  poems  which  de- 
tracts from  their  perfection  as  works  of  art.  We  are 
hardly  justified  in  making  the  same  assertion  about 
the  ‘House  of  Fame,’  as  it  is  itself  unfinished.  Yet  it 
seems  probable,  from  the  length  to  which  the  third 
book,  avowedly  the  last  one,  had  already  attained,  that 
this  poem  would  have  exhibited  the  same  peculiarity. 
Moreover,  all  of  the  three  are  clogged  with  extraneous 
material.  They  introduce  long  passages,  not  because 
they  are  germane  to  the  subject,  but  because  they  are 
interesting  to  the  writer.  In  the  ‘Death  of  Blanche’ 
the  story  of  Ceyx  and  Alcyone  is  told  from  Ovid.  In 
the  ‘Parliament  of  Fowls’  we  have  from  Cicero  the 


CHANGE  IN  HIS  METHODS 


321 


‘ Dream  of  Scipio,’  in  an  abridged  form.  In  the  ‘ House 
of  Fame’  there  is  given  an  abstract  of  the  story  of  the 
^neid.  Not  one  of  these  has  any  vital  connection  with 
the  main  subject.  The  poet  himself  makes  no  pretence 
to  that  effect,  though  others  have  occasionally  taken  the 
pains  to  do  it  for  him.  In  two  of  these  instances  he  is 
reading  the  very  book  from  which  he  quotes.  That  is 
the  only  reason  indicated  for  relating  what  has  been 
found  in  it.  Obviously  if  he  had  been  reading  some 
other  book,  he  would  have  had  some  other  story  to  tell 
or  some  other  favorite  passage  from  a favorite  author  to 
embody.  In  his  later  work  there  is  but  little  of  this, 
and  this  little  is  never  so  prominent.  The  occasional 
exceptions  due  to  a desire  to  display  his  learning  will  be 
considered  later.  But,  as  a general  rule,  it  can  be  said 
that  he  finally  worked  himself  out  of  the  disposition  to 
insert  passages  not  because  they  were  appropriate  to 
the  story,  but  because  for  some  reason  they  had  at- 
tracted his  attention  and  regard.  There  are,  indeed, 
frequent  digressions  in  his  best  later  work ; but  they 
arise  naturally,  and  they  are  not  protracted.  They  do 
not  interfere  with  the  progress  of  the  narrative.  They 
are  rather  like  the  incidents  and  observations  in  which  a 
good  story-teller  indulges,  who  feels  that  he  has  abso- 
lute command  of  his  audience,  and  permits  himself  a 
certain  amount  of  by-play  to  prolong  or  enhance  the 
interest  of  what  he  is  saying. 

These  are  conclusions  which  we  reach  inevitably  after 
any  careful  examination  of  Chaucer’s  practice.  From 
such  an  examination  we  are  entitled  to  infer  that  the 
change  in  his  methods  did  not  have  its  origin  in  acci- 
IIL— 21 


322  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

dent.  It  was  due  to  a steady  developing  knowledge  of 
his  art.  This  increase  of  knowledge  was  therefore  the 
result  of  study  and  reflection.  But  in  judging  of  his 
intellectual  growth  as  a literary  artist  we  are  not  limited 
to  inferences  drawn  from  his  practice.  His  own  words 
will  often  furnish  us  with  the  clearest  and  most  definite 
information  as  to  the  views  he  entertained,  both  in  the 
matter  of  expression  and  of  material.  In  this  self-reve- 
lation he  is,  perhaps,  most  conspicuously  opposed  to  the 
early  poets  with  whom  he  is  ordinarily  ranked.  There  is, 
of  course,  a certain  degree  of  justice  in  such  a classifica- 
tion. Chaucer  is  an  early  poet.  It  is  inevitable,  in  con- 
sequence, that  he  should  display  some  of  the  characteris- 
tics of  this  class,  whether  they  assume  the  nature  of  merits 
or  of  defects.  The  traits  which  distinguish  all  of  them 
who  possess  genius  are  plainly  his.  Like  them,  he  is  per- 
fectly simple.  What  he  has  to  say,  he  says  in  a thoroughly 
natural  manner,  without  the  slightest  attempt  to  produce 
an  impression.  There  are  no  devices  used  to  stimulate 
attention  beyond  the  legitimate  ones  which  belong  to 
the  telling  in  the  best  way  what  is  to  be  told.  Like  the 
early  writers,  also,  he  is  simple  in  the  sense  of  being  clear. 
No  one  who  understands  his  words  or  his  references  has 
any  hesitation  about  his  meaning.  Verse  which  is  per- 
plexing, not  on  account  of  the  depth  of  thought,  but  of 
the  obscurity  of  expression,  is  never  the  characteristic 
of  an  early  writer  who  has  the  gift  of  genius.  In  this 
respect  Chaucer  stands  like  them  upon  the  permanent 
as  opposed  to  the  transient.  Poetry  has  failed  of  its 
mission  when  its  language,  like  that  of  diplomacy,  is 
used  to  conceal  thought.  There  is  no  enduring  vitality 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  EARLY  POETS  323 

in  that  kind  of  it  which  it  requires  a special  education 
to  appreciate.  Moreover,  Chaucer  stands  upon  the  per- 
manent as  opposed  to  the  transient  in  the  attention  he 
pays  to  form.  The  revolt  against  the  regular  and  har- 
monious which  occasionally  overtakes  an  age  cloyed 
with  melody  leads  it  to  delight  for  a time  in  uncouth 
measures  and  harsh  lines,  and  to  look  upon  jerkiness  and 
ruggedness  as  being  somehow  a display  of  force  or  a re- 
turn to  nature.  But  the  taste  for  it  can  never  have  any- 
thing more  than  the  permanence  of  a fashion.  If  a man 
of  genius,  such,  for  instance,  as  was  Donne,  exemplifies 
the  practice  in  any  way,  his  reputation  is  sensibly  di- 
minished by  it  in  the  long  run.  In  truth,  if  it  survives 
at  all,  it  is  in  spite  of  the  ruggedness  which  was  affected, 
and  not  because  of  it.  For  if  artificial  melody  becomes 
wearisome,  uncouthness  is  felt  in  process  of  time  to  be 
unendurable. 

Chaucer,  therefore,  like  all  great  early  poets,  is  sim- 
ple, is  clear,  is  melodious.  While  this  is  true,  it  is  also 
true  that  the  simplicity  of  Chaucer  is  by  no  means  the 
simplicity  of  the  poet  who  belongs  to  the  dawn  of  civil- 
ization. It  may  not  be  any  the  less  natural,  but  it  is  far 
more  directly  the  result  of  conscious  art.  I have  had 
occasion  in  discussing  his  religious  beliefs  to  point  out 
that  the  attitude  he  occupied  towards  matters  of  the  kind 
is  rather  that  of  the  modern  man  than  of  the  man  of  the 
Middle  Ages.  The  childlike  faith  of  the  early  time  is 
entirely  gone.  In  place  of  it  appears  the  cool,  critical 
judgment  that  will  accept  nothing  that  does  not  fully 
commend  itself  to  the  reason.  But  the  same  statement 
can  be  made  of  him  with  equal  truth  in  his  attitude 


324  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

towards  literature.  In  respect  to  it  he  is  equally  a 
modern.  There  is  about  his  method  of  work  nothing 
of  that  blind  creative  impulse  which,  acting  without  re- 
flection, characterizes,  or  is  supposed  to  characterize,  the 
poet  of  the  earliest  period.  On  the  contrary,  he  knows 
precisely  what  he  is  aiming  to  accomplish.  He  has  his 
attention  steadily  directed  towards  the  best  method  of 
doing  it.  When  he  fails,  it  is  not  because  he  has  not 
considered  the  matter.  It  is  because  he  has  been  mis- 
led, either  by  the  taste  of  his  age  or  by  the  bad  models 
he  has  set  before  himself.  He  has  all  the  self-conscious- 
ness of  the  creative  genius  of  later  times,  who  has  mas- 
tered his  art  as  well  as  been  mastered  by  it.  He  has 
precise  and  definite  views  about  it.  He  criticises  and 
condemns  not  only  tendencies  in  others,  but  tendencies 
in  himself  that  conflict  with  what  he  has  come  to  regard 
as  essential  to  the  development  of  his  own  power  of  ex- 
pression in  its  purest  and  most  perfect  form. 

That  this  was  so  we  learn  from  the  testimony  which 
Chaucer  himself  furnishes.  That  it  should  be  so  was  an 
almost  unavoidable  consequence  of  the  training  in  his 
art  which  he  had  received,  and  the  characteristics  by 
which  as  a writer  he  is  personally  distinguished.  At  the 
outset  the  simplicity  which  belonged  to  him  by  right  as 
an  early  poet  was  modified  by  two  agencies — one  gen- 
eral, one  individual.  Chaucer  is  the  inheritor  of  literary 
traditions  which  influence  him  always,  and  at  times  dom- 
inate him  entirely.  A share  he  has  in  the  intellectual 
wealth  of  the  past.  With  it  he  assumes  its  responsibil- 
ities, and  to  a large  extent  adopts  its  methods  of  ar- 
rangement and  points  of  view.  But  there  is  something 


PROMINENCE  OF  HIS  OWN  PERSONALITY  325 

more  personal  than  this  to  be  noted.  There  is  in  his 
utterances  a subjective  element  which  is  quite  lacking 
in  the  early  writer,  strictly  so  called.  With  the  latter 
the  author  sinks  out  of  sight  entirely.  The  hero  is  the 
one  to  whose  feelings  and  fortunes  our  attention  is  ex- 
clusively directed.  It  is  upon  the  matters  in  which  he 
is  concerned  that  our  eyes  are  fixed.  This  is  not  due 
to  the  fact  that  the  early  writer  is  specially  dramatic  in 
his  nature.  It  is  simply  because  he  has  a story  of 
another  to  tell,  and  it  never  occurs  to  him  that  any 
views  of  his  own  ought  to  be  brought  into  prominence, 
or  even  into  notice.  But  Chaucer,  as  has  already  been 
pointed  out,  introduces  himself  persistently.  It  is  not 
the  way  that  things  strike  the  hero  of  the  story  that  pre- 
sent themselves  for  consideration,  but  the  way  they 
strike  the  narrator.  Now,  there  can  be  absolute  simplic- 
ity in  this,  and  it  will  depend  upon  the  character  and 
genius  of  the  writer  whether  it  adds  to  or  detracts  from 
the  interest  of  the  work  in  which  it  is  displayed.  But 
it  is  not  the  simplicity  of  the  early  poet.  It  lacks  direct- 
ness. It  diverts  the  reader’s  mind,  if  only  momentarily, 
from  the  story  itself  to  the  views  entertained  by  the 
story-teller. 

One  result  of  all  this  is  that  Chaucer  stands  constant- 
ly in  a critical  attitude  towards  his  own  art.  This  is  a 
position  which  it  would  have  been  impossible  for  the 
writer  of  a very  early  period  to  occupy.  It  is  not  mere- 
ly that  his  treatment  of  his  subject  is  affected  by  it  un- 
consciously. He  is  thinking  constantly  about  the  prop- 
er handling  of  it.  He  comments  upon  it  frequently. 
We  see  this  exemplified  even  in  the  matter  of  language. 


326  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

He  is  ready  to  satirize  himself  when  for  any  reason  he 
finds  that  he  has  yielded  to  a tendency  which  strikes 
him  as  failing  to  conform  to  the  requirements  of  what 
the  severest  canons  of  taste  demand.  The  great  writer 
who  belongs  to  the  earliest  period  is  usually  saved  from 
any  indulgence  in  the  commonplace  or  the  bombastic 
by  the  presence  of  genius.  But  if  he  inadvertently  falls 
into  either  one  of  these  faults,  it  is  because  they  do  not 
seem  to  him  faults.  But  Chaucer’s  freedom  from  lapses 
of  this  sort  is  due  largely  and  perhaps  wholly  to  the  crit- 
ical attention  which  he  pays  to  his  own  utterances.  If 
he  detects  in  himself  any  tendency  towards  fine  writ- 
ing, or  towards  the  repetition  of  the  commonplace,  he 
is  not  in  the  least  disposed  to  mistake  it  for  inspiration 
or  for  wisdom.  It  is  curious,  indeed,  to  observe  at 
times  the  way  in  which,  under  such  circumstances,  he 
abruptly  holds  himself  up,  and  makes  a half -sarcastic 
comment  upon  his  own  performance.  In  the  Frank- 
lin’s tale  we  are  told,  in  the  description  of  an  entertain- 
ment, that 

“ Suddenly  begunne  revel  new, 

Till  that  the  brighte  sunne  lost  his  hew. 

For  the  orizont  hath  reft  the  sun  his  light."  287-289. 

This  way  of  mentioning  that  the  sun  has  set  strikes  the 
poet,  on  second  thought,  as  an  altogether  too  elaborate 
and  artificial  description  of  a familiar  fact.  He  accord- 
ingly brings  himself  and  the  reader  back  to  his  usual 
simplicity  of  style,  almost  with  a shock,  by  adding  the 
ironical  explanation, 

“This  is  as  much  to  say,  as  it  was  night.” 


FREEDOM  FROM  PROLIXITY  327 

In  the  same  manner,  in  the  tale  of  the  Nun’s  Priest,  he 
observes,  * 

“ God  wot  that  worldly  joy  is  soon  ago.”  ^ 386. 

The  commonplaceness  of  the  remark  impresses  itself 
upon  him  as  soon  as  it  is  uttered.  He  proceeds  to  en- 
large upon  that  fact,  not  only  with  reference  to  what  he 
has  just  been  saying  himself,  but  also  with  a possible 
reference  to  some  other  writer,  in  the  following  lines: 

“ And  if  a rhetor^  coulde  fair  endite, 

He  in  a chronique  safely  might  it  write 
As  for  a sovereign  notability.”® 

It  may  excite  surprise  in  the  minds  of  some,  still  more 
or  less  affected  by  the  ideas  of  the  old  criticism,  to  hear 
it  maintained  that  freedom  from  prolixity  is  another 
characteristic  which  differentiates  Chaucer  from  all  ear- 
ly poets  save  those  of  the  very  highest  grade.  It  may 
excite  surprise  because  prolixity  has  been  a fault  com- 
monly attributed  to  him.  It  has  been  sometimes  ad- 
mitted by  his  professed  admirers,  or  at  least  received 
without  protest.  Yet  the  charge  is  not  only  without 
foundation,  it  is  the  very  reverse  of  the  truth.  It  has 
arisen  from  his  improper  introduction  of  extraneous 
matter  which  has  already  met  with  some  consideration, 
and  will  meet  with  more.  This  is  a fault  of  construc- 
tive skill,  but  it  is  not  a fault  of  expression.  Prolixity 
characterizes  the  style  of  the  man  who  is  unable  to 
grasp  the  distinction  between  the  ‘essential  and  the  non- 
essential  in  the  details  of  what  he  has  to  say.  It  is  the 
besetting  sin  of  most  early  writers,  even  of  those  who 

^ Gone.  ^ Writer.  ® Observation  worthy  of  note. 


328  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

attain  to  a rank  but  little  below  the  first.  These  set 
before  themselves  great  tasks  and  execute  them  un- 
flinchingly. The  one  feeling,  the  inspiration  of  which 
never  fails  them,  the  one  duty  incumbent  upon  them 
which  is  never  disregarded,  is  to  make  their  productions 
as  long  as  possible.  In  the  narration  of  events  they 
have  little  or  no  idea  of  selection.  No  incident  is  too 
trivial  to  be  left  unrecorded,  no  detail  is  too  insignifi- 
cant to  be  unnoticed. 

The  course  that  Chaucer  pursues  is  exactly  the  oppo- 
site. The  one  distinguishing  trait  which  makes  him 
the  great  story-teller  of  the  English  language  is  that  he 
seizes  upon  the  central  points  of  interest,  and  lets  every- 
thing go  by  that  does  not  contribute  to  the  effective- 
ness of  their  representation.  If  a charge  of  diffuseness 
could  be  maintained  against  any  of  his  works,  it  would 
be  ‘Troilus  and  Cressida.’  It  might  be  admitted  even 
by  its  admirers  that  it  lacked  compression.  There  are 
not  in  it,  moreover,  any  of  those  vivid  passages  which 
supremely  arrest  the  attention,  such,  for  instance,  as  are 
found  in  the  Knight’s  tale.  But  if  the  demand  were 
made  upon  the  most  censorious  critic  for  a selection  of 
parts  to  be  cut  out  or  compressed,  he  would  with  the 
exception  of  two  passages  be  sorely  embarrassed  in  the 
task  of  pointing  them  out.  The  poem  is  never  tedious. 
It  moves  on  with  equable  flow  from  beginning  to  end, 
with  diversity  of  incident,  with  plenty  of  delicate  obser- 
vation, and  with  an  extraordinary  display  of  keen  in- 
sight inta  the  various  ways  in  which  the  passion  of  love 
manifests  itself  in  different  natures.  Though  protracted, 
it  is  not  prolix,  for,  except  in  the  two  passages  yet  to  be 


FREEDOM  FROM  PROLIXITY  329 

considered,  it  never  wanders  away  from  the  legitimate 
development  of  the  incidents  of  the  tale  that  is  to  be 
told. 

It  was  unquestionably  an  intellectual  virtue  for  the 
poet  to  resist  diffuseness  in  an  age  when  the  fear  the 
reader  had  of  a work  was  never  due  to  its  length.  In 
those  days  of  ample  leisure,  men,  as  a rule,  did  not  dream 
of  being  in  a hurry.  It  was  only  the  very  thoughtful 
among  them  that  looked  upon  time  as  a possession  to 
be  prized.  Brevity  was  so  far  from  being  expected  that 
it  was  not  even  desired.  It  seems  as  if  in  that  age  of 
few  books  the  author  had  not  only  to  resist  the  prompt- 
ings of  human  nature  to  be  long-winded,  but  the  solici- 
tations of  his  fellow-men  to  the  same  effect.  In  this 
very  poem  of  ‘Troilus  and  Cressida,’  Chaucer,  on  one 
occasion,  seems  to  have  felt  himself  under  obligation  to 
apologize  for  his  inability  or  unwillingness  to  respond 
to  the  expectation  that  some  would  entertain  that  he 
should  rehearse  every  word  his  two  lovers  spoke,  every 
message  that  passed  between  them,  and  even  every 
change  that  came  over  their  countenances.^  The  course 
he  took  in  refusing  to  introduce  the  non-essential  was 
not  the  result  of  whim  or  accident.  It  came  from  the 
exercise  of  his  own  critical  judgment.  He  is  full  of  ref- 
erences to  the  necessity  of  avoiding  details  which  were 
then  regularly  expected  in  a narrative  of  the  kind  he 
was  writing.  He  not  unfrequently  mentions  a number 
of  subjects  in  regard  to  which  he  goes  on  to  declare  that 
he  will  not  relate  them.  On  several  occasions* he  gives 
the  reason  of  his  refusal.  “ It  is  no  fruit,  but  loss  of 

^ iii.,  491. 


330 


CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 


time,”  he  says  in  the  Squire’s  tale.  Expressions  of  a 
similar  nature  can  be  found  scattered  through  his  writ- 
ings. These  recurring  references  to  the  necessity  of 
avoiding  prolixity  show  that  the  matter  was  constantly 
before  his  thoughts.  Among  our  early  writers  Chaucer 
seems  to  me  the  only  one  who  had  the  slightest  concep- 
tion of  the  value  of  time. 

It  is  clear  from  his  practice  of  disembarrassing  his 
story  from  everything  that  did  not  add  to  the  effect, 
that  the  poet  had  come  to  comprehend  fully  the  princi- 
ple that  in  art  the  half  is  greater  than  the  whole.  But 
this  same  discerning  judgment,  steadily  developing  with 
his  intellectual  growth,  which  enabled  him  to  perceive 
what  was  permanent  and  what  was  transient  in  taste,  what 
was  proper  and  what  was  improper  in  expression,  is  even 
more  strikingly  seen  in  the  choice  of  his  subjects  than 
in  their  treatment.  In  the  ‘ Canterbury  Tales,’  in  par- 
ticular, we  meet  not  only  with  the  highest  exhibition  of 
his  creative  genius,  but  with  the  final  conclusions  he 
had  reached  in  his  critical  survey  of  literature  and  of 
literary  methods.  In  his  time  there  existed  a certain 
class  of  works  which  had  once  been  pre-eminently  popu- 
lar. These  were  the  ‘ gestes,’  the  tales  that  dealt  with 
the  adventures  of  knights  and  heroes.  They  had  con- 
stituted the  main  staple  of  the  imaginative  literature 
which  the  men  of  the  poet’s  immediate  past  had  been 
wont  to  read.  There  were  capabilities  in  these  stories. 
In  the  hands  of  a man  of  great  genius  they  might  have 
been  lifted  up  into  a poetical  atmosphere  which  would 
have  made  of  some  of  them  imperishable  creations. 
Their  composition  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  versifiers. 


HIS  CRITICISM  OF  THE  ‘GESTES’  33 1 

with  the  result  that  their  production  had  become  a me- 
chanical operation.  It  relied  entirely  upon  the  use  of 
certain  well-worn  incidents,  and  of  certain  measures  that 
had  become  wearisome  to  the  literary  sense  by  their 
monotonous  movement.  Their  invariable  tediousness 
was  furthermore  aggravated  by  the  perpetual  repetition 
of  a certain  set  of  jingling  phrases.  It  is  evident  that 
Chaucer  had  for  them  the  same  sentiment  of  contempt 
that  Fielding  expressed  for  the  long-drawn-out  romances 
which  had  been  the  favorites  of  the  generations  preced- 
ing his  own.  Their  matter  and  manner  were  both  sat- 
irized by  him  in  the  tale  of  Sir  Thopas  which  he  put  in 
his  own  mouth.  We  need  not  give  Chaucer  too  much 
credit  for  the  depreciatory  estimate  which  he  placed 
upon  poems  of  this  kind.  Their  race  was  already  run. 
The  very  fact  that  his  own  sentiments  about  them  were 
attributed  by  him  to  a man  of  inferior  social  position  is 
fairly  certain  proof  that  in  the  criticism  that  was  made 
he  did  no  more  than  reflect  what  was  coming  to  be  a 
common  opinion,  if  not  the  common  opinion.  These 
productions,  doubtless,  still  retained  something  of  the 
popularity  they  once  enjoyed.  But  the  popularity  was 
pretty  certainly  confined  to  men  of  a low  grade  of  intel- 
lectual development.  What  was,  or  was  becoming,  the 
prevalent  feeling  was  adequately  depicted  in  the  rough 
words  of  the  Host.  He  stops  Chaucer  in  his  narrative, 
and  tells  him  that  his  ears  ache  because  of  his  ''drasty 
speech,”  and  that  such  a sort  of  ryme  as  he  is  per- 
petrating he  commits  to  the  devil.  If,  therefore,  we 
accept  the  poet  as  our  authority  for  the  view  that  was 
generally  entertained,  we  cannot  insist  that  in  this  re- 


332  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

spect  his  taste  was  much  superior  to  that  of  his  time. 
All  that  can  be  said  with  certainty  is  that  his  words  are 
evidence  that  he  had  outgrown,  and  that  his  contempo- 
raries were  outgrowing,  the  fondness  that  had  once  ex- 
isted for  the  mechanical  versification  and  absurd  matter 
of  these  productions. 

But  there  was  another  species  of  composition  to  which 
the  men  of  Chaucer’s  age  were  exceedingly  addicted. 
These  were  the  stories  of  the  kind  called  tragedies. 
They  detailed  the  fortunes  of  men  who  had  once  been 
in  position  and  power  and  had  fallen  from  their  high 
estate.  These  were  exactly  in  the  taste  of  the  time. 
The  fondness  for  them  was  something  that  had  mani- 
fested itself  before  Chaucer  came  upon  the  stage.  It 
lasted  long  after  he  had  passed  away.  They  formed 
the  subject  of  perhaps  the  most  noted  of  Boccaccio’s 
Latin  treatises,  the  one  upon  the  misfortunes  of  illus- 
trious men  and  women.  Early  in  the  fifteenth  century 
this  popular  production  was  rendered  into  English  by 
Lydgate  from  the  French  version.  His  translation  was 
one  of  the  works  that  were  rescued  from  manuscript 
within  a short  time  after  the  introduction  of  printing. 
Several  editions  of  it,  moreover,  appeared  during  the 
sixteenth  century.  This  one  fact  shows  the  continu- 
ance of  the  taste  which  had  in  the  first  place  begotten 
these  dolorous  stories.  Their  popularity  culminated  in 
our  literature  with  the  ‘ Mirror  for  Magistrates,’  and  ap- 
parently died  with  the  production  of  that  work.  There 
is  no  question  that  at  first  these  tragical  tales  appealed 
to  Chaucer  as  strongly  as  they  did  to  his  contempora- 
ries. They  had,  indeed,  for  him  the  special  attraction 


HIS  CRITICISM  OF  THE  ‘TRAGEDIES’  333 

that  they  were  pathetic  in  their  nature ; and  he  could 
hardly  have  been  unaware  that  in  the  representation  of 
scenes  of  that  kind  he  was  possessed  of  peculiar  power. 
But  it  is  equally  certain  that  he  learned  to  appreciate 
the  unwisdom  of  composing  and  bringing  together  pro- 
ductions of  the  sort  on  any  large  scale.  A single  story 
of  the  kind  is  often  interesting.  A small  number  of 
them  can  be  made  so  by  a man  of  exceptional  ability. 
But  when  it  comes  to  the  recital  of  scores  and  even  hun- 
dreds of  them,  the  greatest  genius  would  find  it  im- 
possible to  make  their  depressing  details  permanently 
endurable.  Though  Chaucer  fell  at  first  under  the  influ- 
ence of  the  dominant  taste,  he  did  not  continue  under 
it  long.  His  clear  critical  perception  put  him  speedily 
in  advance  of  his  contemporaries.  It  led  him  to  rec- 
ognize the  fact  that  there  was  no  genuine  vitality  in 
productions  of  this  sort.  They  were  false  to  the  truth 
of  life,  and  therefore  false  to  the  truth  of  art. 

His  final  conclusion  we  see  exemplified  in  his  great 
work.  In  it  the  Monk’s  tale  is  introduced  as  a speci- 
men of  these  collections  of  stories,  and  largely  and 
perhaps  entirely  for  the  sake  of  satirizing,  or  at  least 
of  censuring,  the  taste  that  created  and  enjoyed  them. 
The  censure  is  conveyed  in  the  strongest  form.  It  is 
noticeable  also  that  the  criticism  comes  from  the  mouth 
of  two  widely  different  characters.  It  is  the  Knight 
who  interferes  to  suppress  the  lugubrious  narratives  of 
the  Monk.  He  has  heard  as  many  of  them  as  he  can 
stand.  This  feeling,  in  which  is  represented  the  highest 
cultivation  of  the  community,  is  re-echoed  by  the  repre- 
sentative of  its  rough  common-sense.  The  Host  adds 


334  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

his  depreciatory  estimate  in  still  stronger  language. 
Here  it  will  be  observed  that  the  parts  which  these 
personages  play  in  the  condemnation  of  this  tale  are 
largely  different.  It  is  the  Knight  who  objects  to  the 
matter  it  contains.  His  distaste  for  the  narratives 
brought  together  in  it  is  based  upon  their  uniformly 
dolorous  character.  It  gives  him  no  pleasure,  he  says, 
to  hear  of  men’s  misfortunes.  On  the  contrary,  it  is 
always  a satisfaction  to  learn  of  their  success.  If  the 
Knight,  one  of  whose  chief  characteristics  is  his  unfail- 
ing courtesy,  dislikes  the  manner  in  which  the  stories 
are  told,  he  keeps  his  unfavorable  opinion  to  himself. 
Upon  that  point  it  is  the  Host  who  undertakes  to 
enlighten  the  Monk.  This  genuine  prototype  of  the 
modern  reviewer  in  the  eyes  of  the  modern  author  has 
no  hesitation  in  telling  the  reciter  of  the  tale  the  brutal 
truth  in  the  most  brutal  way.  It  was  not  only  a pain, 
he  informs  him,  to  hear  these  dismal  stories,  it  was  a 
bore.  To  the  monotony  of  misery  which  they  narrate 
is  added  a sustained  tediousness  in  the  narration. 
With  engaging  critical  frankness,  the  Host  gives  the 
Monk  to  understand  that  what  he  is  recounting  is  an 
annoyance  to  all  the  company.  It  is  so  wearisome, 
that  were  it  not  for  the  jingling  of  the  bells  that  hung 
from  the  relater’s  bridle,  he  himself  would  have  gone 
off  into  sleep.  No  one  dissents  from  the  view  expressed. 
The  Monk  in  turn  refuses  to  accede  to  the  proposition  to 
tell  a tale  of  a different  character  to  a company  which 
has  shown  itself  incapable  of  appreciating  the  high  in- 
tellectual repast  which  he  had  prepared  for  it. 

This  is  a clear  and  definite  statement  by  Chaucer  of 


CHANGE  OF  TASTE 


335 


his  opinion  of  productions  of  this  nature.  Modern 
criticism,  which  would  say  the  same  thing,  could  say  no 
more,  and  could  say  it  no  more  vigorously.  But  that 
this  feeling  was  a growth  on  the  poet’s  part  we  can 
ascertain  by  going  back  to  a period  in  his  career 
when  it  did  not  exist  with  him  at  all.  More  than 
this,  we  can  go  back  to  a period  in  which  he  was 
still  swayed  by  the  taste  he  came  in  time  to  censure. 
We  can  even  go  back  to  the  very  work  written  under  its 
influence,  and  observe  during  the  progress  of  its  com- 
position the  change  that  was  gradually  coming  over 
his  opinions.  It  is  in  the  ‘ Legend  of  Good  Women  ’ 
that  we  can  trace  the  alteration  in  his  point  of  view. 
This,  as  we  all  know,  was  an  unfinished  poem.  Chaucer 
had  contemplated  the  writing  of  at  least  as  many  as 
nineteen  or  twenty  lives,  and  possibly  of  many  more. 
He  actually  gives  us  but  nine.  Lydgate,  with  character- 
istic mediaeval  jocularity,  tells  us  that  he  could  find  only 
that  number  of  good  women  to  celebrate,  and  therefore 
he  was  obliged  to  stop  for  lack  of  material.  Too  many 
of  Chaucer’s  works  are  left  incomplete  to  render  it 
necessary  to  seek  any  special  reason  why  this  result 
should  have  come  about  in  any  particular  instance. 
But  in  the  case  of  this  poem  we  are  able  to  give  it 
with  a reasonable  degree  of  certainty.  We  get  from 
its  prologue  the  impression  that  it  was  undertaken  at 
the  command,  or  at  least  at  the  request,  of  some  one 
high  in  position,  in  all  probability  the  queen  of  Richard 
11.  Whether  ordered  or  not,  the  work  was  begun  with 
a good  deal  of  enthusiasm.  If  we  can  place  any  weight 
upon  Chaucer’s  own  words,  he  designed,  when  he  set 


336  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

about  its  production,  to  make  it  the  crowning  achieve- 
ment of  his  literary  career.  Its  composition  was  to 
extend  over  no  small  part  of  his  life.  This  is,  indeed, 
expressly  asserted  in  the  speech  which  Alcestis  is 
represented  as  addressing  to  the  poet.  It  is  in  these 
lines  she  tells  him  of  the  manner  in  which  he  is  to 
expiate  his  trespass  against  the  God  of  Love : 

“ Thou  shall,  while  that  thou  livest,  year  by  year, 

The  moste  party‘  of  thy  time  spend 
In  making  of  a glorious  legend 
Of  goode  women,  maidenes  and  wives. 

That  weren  true  in  loving  all  here’^  lives.”  481-485. 

Obviously  this  passage  does  not  contemplate  a speedy 
completion  of  the  work.  It  reads  almost  like  a formal 
announcement  by  the  poet  of  an  undertaking  to  which 
he  was  to  devote  the  labor  of  years.  Were  there  any- 
thing certain  about  the  date  of  the  publication  of  the 
first  form  of  the  ‘ Confessio  Amantis,’  and  that  its  com- 
position preceded  the  completion  of  the  ‘ Legend  of 
Good  Women,’  we  could  almost  fancy  that  the  latter 
was  the  ‘Testament  of  Love,’  which  Chaucer  was  en- 
joined to  write  to  set  a crown  upon  all  his  work. 

At  the  time  he  began  this  poem  Chaucer  clearly 
looked  upon  a collection  of  tales  of  this  kind  as  supply- 
ing him  an  ample  field  for  the  display  of  his  powers. 
But  the  ‘ Legend  of  Good  Women,’  the  moment  we 
leave  its  prologue,  does  not  vary  essentially  in  its  nature 
from  the  Monk’s  tale.  The  narratives  in  the  latter  are 
briefer  and  balder,  and  perhaps  designedly  so ; but  the 
motive  is  the  same  in  each.  The  experience  gained  in 


1 Part. 


2 Their. 


THE  ‘LEGEND  OF  GOOD  WOMEN’  337 

the  one  undertaking  left,  as  was  natural,  its  impress 
very  perceptibly  in  the  character  of  the  comment  made 
upon  the  other.  There  is  nothing  more  peculiar  in  the 
‘ Legend  of  Good  Women  ’ than  the  steadily  growing 
dissatisfaction  of  the  author  with  his  subject  which 
marks  its  progress.  It  was  not  long  before  Chaucer 
began  to  see  the  folly  of  what  he  had  set  out  to  accom- 
plish. His  keen  artistic  sense  could  not  fail  to  recog- 
nize the  insufficiency  of  a plan  which  permitted  him  to 
deal  only  with  the  variations  of  a single  theme.  He 
was  hampered  still  further  by  the  limitations  imposed 
by  the  legendary  stories  he  was  versifying.  The  neces- 
sity of  adhering  to  their  details  prevented  him  from 
giving  any  wide  play  to  his  imagination.  He  knew  at 
the  beginning  of  every  one  precisely  what  he  had  to  do, 
just  as  his  reader  would  know  in  the  same  case  that  it 
was  a dismal  ending  which  he  was  to  expect.  It  is 
therefore  not  at  all  strange  that  the  inevitable  monotony 
wore  upon  him  speedily.  It  made  him  at  last  careless 
and  indifferent  in  the  choice  of  these  stories.  He  was, 
in  consequence,  not  always  justified  in  his  selection  even 
by  the  wide  license  which  he  gave  himself.  The  tale  of 
Philomela  is  really  a tale  of  man’s  infidelity  and  brutal 
cruelty.  It  is  not  in  any  sense  one  of  woman’s  devotion 
or  of  her  martyrdom  for  love.  It  made  him  equally 
indifferent  and  careless  in  the  treatment  of  his  story. 
His  increasing  lack  of  interest  is  openly  displayed  in  the 
hasty  and  reckless  manner  in  which  his  work  is  done 
towards  the  end.  In  the  legend  of  Ariadne,  Theseus  is 
specifically  described  as  being  three-and-twenty  years  of 
age.  But  when  Ariadne  plans  the  scheme  of  rescuing 
III.— 22 


338 


CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 


him  from  death,  which  will  necessitate  the  flight  of  all 
concerned  in  the  plot,  she  not  only  stipulates  that  he 
shall  wed  her  herself,  but  that  on  his  arrival  at  Athens 
he  shall  give  his  son  in  marriage  to  her  sister  Phaedra. 

As  the  work  went  on  Chaucer’s  impatience  visibly 
increased.  At  times  he  was  prompted  to  relieve  its  in- 
evitable monotony  by  the  introduction  of  a humorous 
element.  In  fact,  when  we  reach  the  fourth  of  the  sto- 
ries, and  find  that  Jason  is  threatened  with  the  exposure 
of  his  deceit  in  lines  which  end  with  words  of  this  sort, 

“Have  at  thee,  Jason,  now  thy  horn  is  blown!”  1383. 

we  can  be  sure  that  the  undertaking  has  already  begun 
to  assume  in  his  eyes  the  character  which  he  came  to 
look  upon  as  belonging  to  it.  By  the  time  he  reached 
the  eighth  story — that  of  Phillis — he  makes  no  pretence 
of  concealing  the  disgust  he  has  felt,  and  is  continuing 
to  feel,  with  his  subject,  and  his  desire  to  be  done  with 
it  as  soon  as  possible.  It  is  in  the  following  words  he 
explains  his  reasons  for  not  giving  the  particulars  of 
what  passed  between  the  heroine  and  Demophon : 

“ But  for  I am  agroted'  herebeforn, 

To  write  of  hem^  that  be  in  love  forsworn, 

And  eke  to  haste  me  in  my  legend — 

Which  to  performe  God  me  grace  send — 

Therefore  I passe  shortly  as  I can.”  2454-2458. 

The  very  conclusion  of  this  tale,  with  its  mock  advice 
to  women  to  beware  of  men,  and  in  matters  of  love 
to  trust  no  one  of  them  but  Chaucer  himself,  is  ample 
proof  that  the  element  of  seriousness  was  departing 


^ Surfeited,  sated. 


2 Them. 


CRITICAL  NATURE  OF  HIS  MIND  339 

rapidly  from  the  work.  Nothing  of  that  nature  could 
well  be  imputed  to  a professedly  tragic  poem,  which 
ended  up  with  lines  like  these : 

“ Be  ware,  ye  women,  of  your  subtle  foe. 

Since  yet  this  day  men  may  ensample  see; 

And  trusteth,  as  in  love,  no  man  but  me.”  2559-2561. 

The  result  might  easily  be  predicted  when  once  the 
spirit  that  pervades  the  eighth  legend  is  fully  compre- 
hended. That  which  followed  was  not  only  the  con- 
cluding one,  but  it  was  not  itself  concluded. 

The  taste  which  made  collections  of  stories  of  this 
kind  popular  came  to  be  recognized  by  Chaucer  as  es- 
sentially vicious  in  art,  and  therefore  transitory.  It 
shows  how  thoroughly  developed  was  the  critical  side  of 
his  intellectual  nature  that  he  should  have  reached  such 
a conclusion,  while  this  style  of  composition  was  not 
only  in  full  fashion,  but  had  before  it  centuries  in  which 
to  exist  and  flourish.  This  same  disposition  to  look 
upon  things  as  they  are,  to  free  his  mind  from  the  no- 
tions and  prejudices  of  the  time,  was  attended  with  a 
certain  danger  to  the  legitimate  exercise  of  his  poetical 
power.  It  became  hard  for  him  to  make  use  of  illu- 
sions which  he  himself  did  not  accept  as  realities,  or  to 
represent  sentiments  and  incidents  that  he  felt  were  not 
true  to  life.  The  Franklin’s  tale,  for  illustration,  is  a 
story  of  natural  magic.  To  enjoy  it,  the  reader  must 
consent  to  lay  aside  for  the  time  being  all  doubts  as  to 
the  possibility  of  the  events  happening  which  are  nar- 
rated in  it.  But  as  I have  pointed  out  previously,  the 
poet  stops  in  the  very  middle  of  the  piece  to  express 
the  most  contemptuous  opinion  of  the  very  thing,  be- 


340 


CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 


lief  in  which  is  essential  to  the  success  of  his  story  as  a 
story.  This  is  an  instance  in  which  the  critical  element 
of  his  nature  came  dangerously  near  destroying  the  force 
of  the  creative.  The  very  opposite  method  is  followed  in 
the  tale  of  the  Wife  of  Bath.  There  the  poetic  treatment 
is  allowed  its  full  sway.  It  is  a fairy  story  that  is  told. 
It  is  told  so  skilfully  that  it  usually  escapes  the  notice 
of  the  reader  that  it  is  a fairy  story.  Chaucer  does  noth- 
ing in  it  anywhere  to  impair  in  the  slightest  the  illu- 
sion. On  the  contrary,  he  heightens  it ; he  gives,  in 
fact,  such  an  air  of  verisimilitude  that  we  accept  all  its 
impossibilities  as  occurrences  naturally  to  be  expected. 

But  when  we  come  to  a story  that  deals  with  the 
events  of  real  life,  the  critical  tone  of  Chaucer’s  mind  is 
always  inclined  to  assert  itself  somewhere.  No  glamour 
of  ideal  interpretation  hides  from  his  own  eyes  whatever 
things  are  unreal  in  the  scenes  he  depicts,  though  it  may 
be  sufficient  to  blind  the  eyes  of  his  readers.  He  may 
ignore  them  for  purposes  of  his  own.  He  usually  does 
ignore  them.  None  the  less  is  he  aware  of  their  exist- 
ence. The  Clerk  of  Oxford’s  tale  is  perhaps  the  best  ex- 
emplification of  the  method  that  Chaucer  follows  in  his 
handling  of  a story,  the  events  of  which,  while  suscepti- 
ble of  poetic  treatment,  are  in  no  way  consonant  with 
the  truth  of  life.  The  heroine  of  it  is  the  representative 
of  patience.  But  it  is  not  a kind  of  patience  which  rec- 
ommends itself  to  ordinary  human  nature.  The  mod- 
ern man,  and  still  more  the  modern  woman,  so  far  from 
finding  her  conduct  creditable,  is  much  disposed  to  give 
it  the  name  of  weak-spirited,  and  even  despicable.  Gri- 
selda  fails  in  a woman’s  first  duty,  the  defence  of  her 


THE  TALE  OF  GRISELDA 


341 


offspring.  She  allows  them  to  be  sacrificed,  as  she  sup- 
poses, without  protest,  to  suit  the  whim  of  a ruthless 
father.  The  behavior  is  so  unnatural  as  to  excite  in 
some  readers  a feeling  of  repulsion  towards  the  patient 
wife.  It  makes  them  unjust  towards  the  real  excel- 
lences she  is  represented  as  manifesting.  It  is  not  a 
feeling  that  has  shown  itself  much  in  literature,  in  which 
conventional  judgments  continue  to  be  repeated.  But 
it  finds  frequent  and  adequate  expression  in  life.  Not 
so,  however,  did  it  affect  generally  the  men  of  the  age  in 
which  it  appeared.  When  Petrarch  received  it  from 
Boccaccio,  it  wholly  engrossed  his  attention,  though  at 
the  time  he  was  burdened  and  distracted  with  public  and 
private  cares.  He  learned  it  by  heart,  to  repeat  to  his 
friends.  He  turned  it  into  Latin,  so  that  it  should  not 
escape  the  knowledge  of  those  who  were  ignorant  of 
Italian.  One  citizen  of  Padua,  a man  of  exceeding  learn- 
ing and  judgment,  to  whom  he  submitted  it  for  exami- 
nation, was  prevented  from  finishing  it  by  his  tears. 
Ogle,  who  was  the  first  to  paraphrase  the  Clerk’s  tale 
in  modern  English,  was  so  impressed  by  this  statement 
that  he  went  much  beyond  the  usual  claim  that  Chaucer 
had  heard  the  story  from  Petrarch’s  own  lips.  He  con- 
jectured that  the  person  who  wept  so  profusely  upon  the 
occasion  was  Chaucer  himself. 

The  central  idea  of  this  story  is,  as  has  been  indicated, 
too  revolting  to  the  feelings  of  modern  life,  or,  for  that 
matter,  to  the  feelings  of  any  life  whatever,  for  any  skill 
in  description  to  make  it  palatable.  Griselda  does  not 
even  exhibit  the  degree  of  sensibility  which  exists  in  the 
females  of  the  brute  creation.  Her  patience  outrages 


342  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

every  instinct  of  maternity,  and  the  respect  which  men 
pay  to  that  quality  in  woman.  There  were,  however, 
reasons  that  led  Chaucer  to  select  the  story  for  narra- 
tion, besides  the  opportunity  it  gave  him  to  employ  his 
power  of  pathetic  description.  They  were,  in  large 
measure,  the  same  that  had  led  Boccaccio  and  Petrarch 
to  select  it.  In  it  was  represented  a phase  of  sentiment 
and  belief  which,  however  temporary  in  its  nature,  was 
at  the  time  widely  prevalent.  It  was  doubtless  accepted 
by  many  as  belonging  to  the  normal  order  of  things.  Its 
details  were  consonant  with  the  feelings  of  an  age  in 
which  there  was  an  ingrained  belief  in  the  absolute  in- 
feriority of  the  subject  to  the  lord,  of  the  wife  to  the 
husband.  Griselda  fulfils  both  conditions.  She  is  the 
servant  of  the  master  who  chose  her  as  his  bride.  Out 
of  mere  wantonness  he  puts  her  patience  and  obedience 
to  the  extremes!  tests.  She  comes  out  triumphantly 
from  the  ordeal.  She  exemplifies  in  her  unrepining  obe- 
dience to  the  most  unnatural  commands  the  principles 
of  conduct  which  she,  as  well  as  every  one  else  in  her  sit- 
uation, had  been  brought  up  to  regard  as  sacred.  Entire 
unquestioning  acquiescence  in  the  wfill  of  her  husband 
and  her  lord  she  conscientiously  accepts  as  the  only  rule 
of  life.  She  acts  in  accordance  with  her  faith.  If  Abra- 
ham is  to  be  honored  for  his  willingness  to  offer  up  his 
only  son  at  the  command  of  his  Creator,  she,  in  the  view 
of  that  age,  is  to  be  honored  for  yielding,  without  com- 
plaint, to  a sacrifice  of  herself  and  her  children  which 
she  had  not  the  power  to  prevent,  and  against  which  she 
had  not  the  disposition  to  protest. 

But  this  unhesitating  submission  to  a treatment  which 


THE  TALE  OF  GRISELDA 


343 


outrages  all  that  we  are  accustomed  to  hold  sacred  in 
the  family  relation  is  so  repugnant  to  the  feelings  of  our 
age  that  it  has  sensibly  affected  the  reputation  of  the 
story.  It  was  once  one  of  the  most  widely  known  in 
literature.  It  was  dramatized  for  the  stage.  It  was 
turned  into  a puppet-play  for  the  masses.  With  the 
gradual  vanishing  of  the  sentiment  upon  which  it  was 
founded,  the  popularity  of  the  central  figure  has  dwin- 
dled, and  will  doubtless  continue  to  dwindle.  The  utter 
unreality  of  the  behavior  was  recognized  even  by  Pe- 
trarch, He  considered  it  an  example  of  patience  too 
remarkaule  to  be  repeated  a second  time.  Another 
friend  of  his,  a Veronese,  he  tells  us,  refused  to  be  af- 
fected by  it,  because  it  was  too  remarkable  to  have  ever 
happened  at  all.  To  neither  of  them  did  it  apparently 
occur  that  it  was  something  which  ought  never  to  have 
happened.  The  distinction  of  Chaucer  is  that  he  not 
only  recognized  the  unreality  of  the  behavior  commend- 
ed, but  also  its  impropriety,  not  to  say  absurdity.  This 
was  full  as  apparent  to  ftim  as  it  would  be  to  any  man  of 
modern  times.  The  view  is  occasionally  taken  that  the 
incidents  of  the  tale  were  devised  for  the  sake  of  defend- 
ing the  female  character  from  the  malicious  attacks  upon 
it  that  were  current  in  the  mediaeval  ages.  Instead  of 
being  the  shrewish,  self-seeking,  and  generally  pestilent 
creatures  they  were  then  reported  to  be,  they  were  capa- 
ble, on  the  contrary,  of  displaying  the  most  angelic  quali- 
ties of  mind  and  heart.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  the 
people  who  would  read  the  story  would  not  be  those 
who  needed  this  sort  of  instruction.  If  such  a thing 
did  occasionally  happen,  the  gross  improbability  of  the 


344  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

events  narrated  would  destroy  any  influences  of  such  a 
character.  Whatever  lesson  of  the  sort  modern  criticism 
may  find  conveyed  in  the  poem,  the  comment  whic'i 
Chaucer  added  in  the  course  of  the  narrative  upon  the 
conduct  of  the  hero  of  the  piece  shows  that  he  fully  ap- 
preciated the  indefensible  and  monstrous  nature  of  the 
proceedings  of  the  husband.  The  comment  he  added 
at  the  end  shows  also  that  he  looked  upon  the  conduct 
of  the  wife  as  being  even  more  preposterous  than  it  v as 
impossible.  His  envoy  would  of  itself  have  destroyed 
the  effect  of  any  such  moral  as  has  been  imputed  co  the 
piece.  It  would  surely  never  have  been  app^mded  by 
any  one  who  had  such  a moral  in  view.  Chaucer  felt 
towards  this  tale  as  does  the  modern' reader  who  is  not 
transported  by  the  spirit  of  self-sacrifice.  It  was  a story 
that  could  be  made  effective  by  being  told  delicately 
and  earnestly.  Therefore  he  told  it  delicately  and 
earnestly.  It  appealed  especially  to  the  taste  of  one 
class  of  minds  in  his  age.  It  was  for  them  he  selected 
it ; for  in  his  great  work  it  was  his  manifest  intention  to 
write  for  all  classes,  and  to  represent  all  phases  of  feel- 
ing and  conduct  that  in  his  eyes  were  worthy  of  repre- 
sentation. 

This  evident  appeal  on  the  poet’s  part  to  different 
natures  in  the  choice  of  his  subjects  brings  us  at  once 
to  the  consideration  of  one  of  the  most  vexed  questions 
connected  with  his  writings.  This  is  the  charge  brought 
against  Chaucer  for  the  coarseness  of  some  of  his  tales. 
About  this  matter  a wide  difference  of  opinion  has  ex- 
isted from  an  early  period  — undoubtedly,  indeed,  from 
the  very  beginning.  It  is  a difference  of  opinion  that  is 


THE  QUESTION  OF  MORALITY  345 

based  upon  a radically  different  view  of  the  province  of 
art.  The  contest  is  therefore  not  now  ended,  nor  will 
it  ever  be  ended.  By  the  advocates  of  the  one  side 
these  tales  are,  in  consequence,  stoutly  defended.  Chau- 
cer, they  say,  is  purposing  to  give  a picture  of  human 
life  in  its  entirety.  He  is  not  to  be  censured  because 
some  of  its  aspects  are  disagreeable  and  degrading. 
Rather  is  he  to  be  commended  for  holding  the  mirror 
up  to  nature.  According  to  this  view,  there  is  nothing 
more  objectionable  in  his  course  of  conduct  than  there 
is  in  the  representation  of  the  nude  in  painting  or  sculp- 
ture. On  the  other  hand,  there  are  those  who  look  upon 
these  tales  as  utterly  inexcusable.  They  are  spoken  of 
as  great  stains  upon  the  poet’s  writings,  if  not  upon  his 
personal  character.  The  exceptional  ability  displayed 
in  them  does  not  furnish  the  least  palliation  for  the  of- 
fence of  their  production.  No  felicity  of  execution  can 
justify  the  description  of  scenes  not  fit  to  be  described, 
nor  wipe  away  the  blot  which  the  composition  of  these 
pieces  has  cast  upon  Chaucer’s  poetic  achievement  as  a 
whole. 

Between  the  partisans  of  these  two  sides  hovers  a class 
of  critics  whose  opinions  are  heard  much  oftener  in  these 
later  days  than  at  any  previous  period.  They  defend, 
or  perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  say  they  apologize  for, 
these  tales  on  the  ground  that  they  were  in  conformity 
with  the  taste  of  the  times.  Virtue  is  as  old  as  the 
race  ; delicacy  is  quite  a modern  invention.  The  coarse- 
ness exhibited  in  some  of  Chaucer’s  stories,  therefore, 
was  not  anything  personal  to  the  author,  but  a charac- 
teristic of  his  century.  The  only  fault,  accordingly,  that 


346  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

can  be  found  with  the  poet  is  that  he  was  not  superior 
to  his  contemporaries.  While  this  is  something  that 
may  be  desired,  it  is  hardly  a thing  that  can  fairly  be 
demanded.  The  merits  of  Chaucer,  consequently,  are 
wholly  his  own.  His  failings  are  the  failings  of  his  age. 
This  explanation  or  extenuation  is  something  that  the 
morality  of  the  nineteenth  century  feels  called  upon  to 
offer,  in  order  to  reconcile  its  love  for  the  poet  with  its 
admiration  for  the  man. 

It  is  doubtless  the  fact  that  the  transgressions  of 
Chaucer  against  modern  canons  of  propriety  are  within 
certain  limits  due  to  his  age  and  not  to  himself.  This  is 
especially  true  of  several  of  the  links  between  the  tales, 
and  also  of  some  of  the  incidents  in  the  tales  themselves. 
There  is  nothing  in  them  offensive  to  morals.  All  that 
can  be  said  against  them  now  is  that  they  are  offensive 
to  taste,  or  in  some  instances  to  certain  tastes.  They 
probably  struck  no  one  in  his  time  as  being  in  the  least 
objectionable.  So  far  as  they  have  any  effect  in  inflam- 
ing the  passions,  they  are  not  in  the  least  so  now.  If 
any  exception  could  be  taken  to  them  on  that  ground, 
it  would  be  only  by  that  class  of  virtuous  men  who  pos- 
sess prurient  imaginations.  For  it  is  too  plain  to  need 
comment  that  the  morality  of  a work  must  be  decided 
by  its  general  tendency,  and  not  by  the  particular  words 
it  uses  or  the  particular  facts  it  relates.  Chaucer’s  age 
endured  an  amount  of  plain-speaking  on  certain  topics 
which  the  present  would  never  tolerate.  Our  own  may 
possibly  permit  it  in  ways  that  are  even  more  injurious 
in  their  scope  and  influence.  However  that  may  be, 
there  is  no  question  that  incidents  which  can  be  de- 


RELATION  OF  ART  TO  MORALITY  347 

scribed  without  offence  during  the  existence  of  one 
grade  of  culture  cannot  be  repeated  generally  in  an- 
other and  perhaps  higher  grade  of  culture.  They  are 
told ; but  they  are  not  told  in  public. 

This  condition  of  things  will  cover  some  of  the  cases 
in  the  poet’s  writings  to  which  exception  has  been 
taken.  But  it  will  not  cover  all.  It  is  perfectly  cer- 
tain, moreover,  that  Chaucer  himself  would  never  have 
sanctioned  the  apologies  based  upon  this  line  of  de- 
fence which  have  been  offered  in  his  behalf.  What  he 
did,  he  did  with  his  eyes  open.  He  set  out  to  depict 
the  life  of  the  time  in  all  its  varied  phases,  as  no  one  be- 
fore or  since  has  even  attempted  the  task.  The  actors 
he  brought  upon  the  stage  ran  through  all  grades  of  so- 
ciety, from  the  highest  to  the  lowest.  It  was  his  evident 
purpose  to  make,  the  various  personages  that  form  part 
of  his  company  speak  in  character;  and  the  principles 
of  art  which  he  held  he  followed  unflinchingly  to  their 
legitimate  conclusion.  He  did  not  ask  whether  the 
conduct  he  designed  to  portray  was  good  conduct,  de- 
sirable conduct,  pious  conduct,  but  whether  it  formed 
the  proper  material  for  the  picture  he  was  drawing. 
Certain  people  were  vulgar,  their  feelings  were  vulgar, 
their  conversation  was  vulgar.  A conception  that  the 
part  assigned  to  each  individual  should  be  in  full  keep- 
ing with  his  nature  required  that  the  rude  and  coarse 
personages  in  the  company  should  tell  rude  and  coarse 
stories — stories  in  which  the  men  of  that  class  delight, 
though  the  delight  is  far  from  being  confined  to  the  men 
of  that  class.  If  he  expected  to  succeed  in  portraying 
the  whole  life  of  the  times,  it  was  just  as  necessary  for 


348  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

him  to  represent  the  ignoble  side  of  human  nature  as  it 
was  the  noble. 

Chaucer’s  course  leaves  us  in  no  doubt  as  to  the  side 
in  this  never-ending  controversy  upon  which  he  had 
ranged  himself.  Above  everything  else,  he  was  su- 
premely a literary  artist.  The  effectiveness  of  his  pro- 
duction accordingly  as  a work  of  art  was  of  vastly  great- 
er importance  in  his  eyes  than  its  moral  quality.  It 
would  be  an  inference  grossly  unfair  that  this  view  of  his 
vocation  caused  him  to  aim  by  preference  at  the  descrip- 
tion of  scenes  that  were  low  or  at  the  relation  of  stories 
that  were  vulgar.  Such  a method  of  proceeding  would 
have  struck  him  as  even  more  unbefitting  and  improper 
than  the  method  which  would  have  led  him  to  avoid 
such  descriptions  and  relations  altogether.  He  had  no 
fondness  for  the  coarse  merely  because  it  was  coarse. 
He  described  the  representatives  of  the  higher  class  of 
pilgrims  in  his  company  as  insisting  that  the  Pardoner 
shall  tell  no  ribald  tale.  This  settles  pretty  conclusively 
the  nature  of  his  own  intellectual  sympathies.  But  to 
him  all  views  of  human  nature  were  acceptable  that  the 
artistic  sen5e-would--cq3pro^e.  All  play  of  human  pas- 
sions that  it  sanctioned  had  a right  to  be  presented. 
While,  therefore,  he  would  not  go  out  of  his  way  to  seek 
the  vulgar  and  low,  he  did  not  refuse  to  depict  it  when 
it  came  in  his  way.  This  principle  he  adopted  not  to 
conform  to  any  vicious  prevailing  taste,  not  to  gratify 
the  cravings  of  any  prurient  imagination,  but  because,  in 
his  view  of  his  art,  it  was  the  only  course  that  could 
properly  be  taken. 

Here,  simply  stated,  is  the  creed  that  Chaucer  accept- 


RELATION  OF  ART  TO  MORALITY  349 

ed.  That  such  it  was  we  have  the  right  to  infer  from 
the  character  of  his  various  stories.  But  in  making  up 
our  estimate  of  his  opinions  we  are  not  limited  to  what 
he  did.  We  can  appeal  directly  to  what  he  said.  Upon 
this  very  point  he  has  taken  care  not  to  leave  us  in  the 
slightest  doubt.  His  words  are  precise  and  positive. 
They  make  perfectly  clear  that  the  conclusions  to  which 
he  came  were  not  taken  up  inadvertently,  but  were  the 
result  of  full  reflection.  They  show  also  that  two 
parties  with  opposing  views  on  this  subject  of  contro- 
versy existed  then  as  now.  They  bring  to  our  knowl- 
edge in  particular  an  influential  body  of  men,  who  felt 
and  expressed  themselves  just  as  strongly  in  this  matter 
as  similar  men  feel  and  talk  in  our  own  time.  The  poet 
thoroughly  comprehended  the  position  they  took.  He 
unquestionably  dissented  from  it.  Yet  he  dissented  with 
hesitation  and  reluctance.  In  the  general  Prologue  to 
his  great  work  he  laid  down  definitely  the  laws  by  which 
his  action  was  to  be  governed.  The  fact  that  he  felt  it 
necessary  to  do  this  proves  that  he  was  aware  of  the  ex- 
istence of  a class  of  persons  who  taught  doctrines  en- 
tirely contrary  to  his  own.  While  he  did  not  accept 
their  opinion  of  his  art,  he  was  sensitive  to  their  opinion 
of  himself.  His  language  shows  that  he  combined  much 
respect  for  the  individuals  who  held  these  views  with 
correspondingly  little  respect  for  the  views  they  held. 

The  quasi-apology  which  Chaucer  in  the  general  Prol- 
ogue makes  to  a certain  class  of  his  critics  for  the  char- 
acter of  some  of  his  stories  gives  us  a clear  insight  into 
his  ideas  about  the  proper  relation  of  art  and  morals.  If 
it  proves  nothing  else,  it  disposes  of  the  theory  that  in 


350 


CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 


his  production  he  acted  merely  from  a creative  impulse 
which  had  about  it  no  element  of  critical  reflection.  He 
must,  he  says,  tell  his  tale  “after  his  man;”  that  is,  he 
must  tell  the  kind  of  tale  the  particular  person  intro- 
duced was  sure  to  tell,  and  must  tell  it  in  the  way  it  was 
told.  So  to  do  was  not  ‘ villainy  ’ on  his  part ; that  is, 
conduct  belonging  to  a villein  but  unbecoming  a gentle- 
man. It  was  proper  regard  for  the  truth  of  nature, 
and  therefore  for  the  truth  of  art.  If  the  personage 
whose  story  is  recounted  follow  his  instincts  in  speaking 
“ rudeliche  and  large” — that  is,  coarsely  and  broadly — 
there  are  but  two  courses  open  to  the  author.  He  must 
report  the  words  precisely  as  they  were  uttered,  or  else 
substitute  for  them  either  new  words  or  new  matter  of 
his  own.  But  if  he  adopt  the  latter  line  of  conduct,  he 
is  not  faithful  to  the  duty  he  has  assumed.  He  is  not 
telling  the  tale  truly;  that  is,  as  it  would  have  been  told 
by  the  character  to  whom  it  was  assigned. 

This  is  a statement  sufficiently  definite  to  make  us  ac- 
quainted with  the  poet’s  opinions.  But  the  very  same 
point  is  put  even  more  specifically  in  the  prologue  to 
the  Miller’s  tale,  as  well  as  more  boldly.  The  apology 
here  to  those  who  hold  the  opposite  view  becomes  at 
the  end  half-contemptuous.  He  does  not  disguise  from 
the  reader  that  the  story  to  be  narrated  is  of  a coarse 
nature.  He  even  pretends  to  be  vexed  that  he  is  com- 
pelled to  report  it.  But  the  Miller  has  told  his  tale, 
such  as  it  was.  It  is  therefore  a duty  incumbent 
upon  him  to  repeat  it  just  as  it  was  told.  He  then 
proceeds  to  defend  himself  for  this  procedure.  In  the 
following  lines  we  have  precisely  the  same  kind  of 


RELATION  OF  ART  TO  MORALITY  351 

deliverance  that  has  appeared  earlier  in  the  general  Prol- 
ogue : 

“ And  therefore  every  gentle  wight,  I pray, 

For  Goddes  love  deemeth  not  that  I say 
Of  evil  intent,  but  that  I mot  rehearse 
Hire  tales  alle,  be  they  better  or  worse. 

Or  elles  falsen  some  of  my  matter.” 

But  in  this  instance  the  poet  does  not  stop  with  the 
apology  which  he  was  doubtless  conscious  would  fail 
utterly  to  satisfy  those  to  whom  it  was  addressed.  He 
goes  on  to  inform  the  persons  who  take  exception  to 
these  stories  that  they  are  under  no  obligation  to  read 
them.  There  is  plenty  of  other  matter  to  be  found  in 
the  work — matter  which  deals  with  noble  life,  with  mo- 
rality, and  with  holiness.  Turn  over  the  page,  he  practi- 
cally tells  the  reader,  and  choose  instead  of  these  ob- 
jectionable pieces  another  one  of  a kind  that  suits  your 
own  pure  and  elevated  character.  This  same  sort  of  ad- 
vice, it  may  be  added,  has  been  given  by  one  of  the 
poet's  editors.  Urry  remarks  at  the  beginning  of  the 
Miller’s  tale  that  the  story  is  one  of  ribaldry.  “ So,  read- 
er,” he  continues,  “you  know  what  you  are  to  expect; 
read  or  forbear,  as  you  think  fitting.”  To  the  argument 
of  the  Reeve’s  tale  he  appended  a similar  observation. 
“ This  you  may  pass  over  if  you  please,”  he  remarked. 
But  there  is  a contemptuous  tone  in  Chaucer’s  words 
which  is  absent  from  his  editor’s.  The  poet  seems  to 
have  had  in  mind  the  class  of  men,  not  unknown  to  our 
own  day,  who  are  glad  to  read  vicious  books,  but  fancy 
they  have  a moral  end  in  view  because  they  read  them 
with  the  virtuous  intention  of  being  shocked. 


352  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

There  is,  of  course,  an  undertone  of  irony  in  Chaucer’s 
representation  of  himself  as  not  telling  a coarse  story 
out  of  the  slightest  evil  intent,  but  solely  from  a sacred 
sense  of  duty.  An  element  of  the  intentionally  comic 
must  enter  into  the  declaration  of  a man  who  represents 
himself  as  being  under  a moral  obligation  to  narrate  an 
immoral  tale.  But  the  seriousness  of  the  speaker  need 
not  be  questioned,  though  his  words  are  jestingly  spokerc 
It  is  not  the  compulsion  of  the  moral  conscience  that 
forces  him  to  do  what  he  does,  but  that  of  the  artistic. 
This  is  the  poet’s  position.  I am  not  attacking  it  or 
defending  it.  I am  simply  trying  to  state  it.  But  such 
a view  of  his  method  of  procedure  disposes  at  once  of 
the  theory  that  it  was  taken  in  unthinking  compliance 
with  the  low  tastes  of  an  age  in  which  all  tastes  were 
low.  Any  such  interpretation  of  his  motives  or  conduct 
must  accordingly  be  cast  aside.  The  words  which  have 
been  quoted  prove  clearly  that  men  existed  at  that  time 
who  looked  upon  what  he  was  about  to  do  with  disfavor, 
while  he  himself  regarded  it  not  as  a legitimate,  but  as 
the  legitimate,  course  to  take.  He  therefore  placed  him- 
self deliberately  upon  the  side  of  those  who  insist  that 
art,  while  it  is  not  immoral,  is  non-moral.  Upon  the  ques- 
tions involved  in  this  dispute  there  has  always  been  a dif- 
ference of  opinion  so  radical  that  it  is  safe  to  say  that  it 
will  last  forever.  According  to  the  view  held  by  each 
party,  therefore,  Chaucer  will  always  stand  justified  or 
condemned.  The  dramatist  Beaumont,  in  his  letter  to 
Speght,  boldly  defended  the  poet’s  practice  as  the  only 
proper  one  he  could  adopt  without  swerving  from  de- 
corum, by  which  he  means  without  swerving  from  the 


AVOIDANCE  OF  THE  REVOLTING  353 

true  principles  of  art.  ‘‘  No  man,”  he  concludes,  “ can 
imagine  in  that  large  compass  of  his,  purposing  to 
describe  all  men  living  in  those  days,  how  it  had  been 
possible  for  him  to  have  left  untouched  these  filthy 
delights  of  the  baser  sort  of  people.”  The  poet  Clough 
in  our  own  day,  while  in  a measure  deprecating  these 
stories,  is  forced  to  commend  their  artistic  excellence. 
He  plainly  implies  that  they  are  poems  which  every- 
body likes  to  read  but  no  one  cares  to  quote.  ‘‘They 
are  thoroughly  English  stories,”  he  writes,  “ but  I don’t 
know  whether  they  are  New  English.  They  are  just 
what  would  be  relished  to  this  day  in  public-houses  in 
farming  districts;  but  I can’t  say  that  I could  wish  them 
urged  upon  any  palate  that  does  not  already  fancy  them, 
and  I don’t  much  admire  the  element  in  the  English 
character  that  does  relish  them.” 

I have  endeavored  to  make  it  clear  that  it  was  the 
artistic  conscience  by  which  Chaucer  was  influenced  in 
his  literary  work,  and  not  the  moral  one.  He  has  told 
us  himself  what  it  permitted  him  to  do  in  the  revela- 
tion of  low  life.  But  we  can  also  discover  what  it  would 
not  permit  him  to  do.  Here  again  we  have  from  his 
own  lips  the  statement  of  his  poetic  creed.  It  was  not 
to  the  coarse  and  vulgar  that  he  objected.  That  which 
was  to  be  rigorously  avoided  was  the  disgusting,  the 
horrible,  the  revolting — anything,  in  fact,  which  aroused 
unpleasant  sensations,  not  in  particular  minds,  but  in  all 
minds.  There  may  not  be  anything  too  rude  or  even 
too  painful  for  art ; but  there  are  some  things  too  loath- 
some. This  doctrine  Chaucer  sets  forth  plainly  in  two 
or  three  places.  The  Wife  of  Bath,  who  is  not  herself 
III.-23 


354 


CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 


described  as  specially  scrupulous,  speaks  of  such  an  evil 
story  as  that  of  the  Cretan  queen  Pasiphae  as  being  suit- 
ed only  to  the  taste  of  an  evil-minded  man.  ' 

“Fie!  speak  no  more,  it  is  a grisly  thing,”  ^ 
is  the  vigorous  way  in  which  she  is  represented  as  reject- 
ing its  disagreeable  details.  But  it  is  in  the  prologue 
to  the  Man  of  Law’s  tale  that  the  poet  expresses  his 
views  with  absolute  distinctness  and  unreserve.  He 
there  reveals  to  us  that  in  his  opinion  there  was  a 
certain  class  of  stories  that  were  not  to  be  narrated. 
He  illustrates  the  nature  of  these  by  two  specific  ex- 
amples. One  of  them  is  the  incestuous  love  of  Canace 
for  her  brother,  which  had  been  told  by  his  favorite 
author,  Ovid.  The  other  is  the  revolting  incident  of  the 
treatment  of  his  daughter  by  King  Antiochus,  which  oc- 
curs in  the  story  of  Apollonius  of  Tyre.  Both  of  these 
tales  had  been  included  by  Gower  in  his  ‘ Confessio 
Amantis.’  It  is  accordingly  taken  for  granted  by  many 
students  that  Chaucer  here  deliberately  criticised  his 
contemporary.  This  may  be  the  case.  Still,  it  is  note- 
worthy that  the  circumstance  in  the  latter  story  which 
he  specified  as  particularly  horrible  is  not  found  in  the 
version  as  it  appears  in  Gower.  But  his  detestation  of 
tales  of  this  kind  he  does  not  hide.  “ Of  such  cursed  sto- 
ries I say  fie  !”  he  writes.  Not  content  with  this  declara- 
tion of  dislike,  he  goes  on  to  make  the  following  utterance : 
“ And  therefore  he,  of  full  avisement. 

Would  never  write  in  none  of  his  sermons 
Of  such  unkind^  abominations.”  ^ 

’ Prologue  to  Wife  of  Bath' s tale,  ® Prologue  to  Man  of  Law's  tale, 

line  735.  lines  86-89. 

^ Unnatural. 


AVOIDANCE  OF  THE  REVOLTING  355 

These  words  have  a direct  bearing  upon  the  subject  of 
this  chapter.  We  in  modern  times  are  often  graciously 
inclined  to  concede  to  the  early  author  greater  creative 
power.  But  we  are  equally  inclined  to  deny  him  critical 
ability,  and  sometimes  even  the  perception  that  such  a 
thing  exists.  Superiority  in  the  latter  we  arrogate  to 
ourselves  as  a compensation  for  our  admission  of  inferi- 
ority in  the  former.  It  is  a question  whether  either  view 
is  justified  by  the  facts.  Chaucer  tells  us,  it  will  be 
observed,  that  he  condemned  and  rejected  the  stories 
he  mentioned, of  full  avisement;  ” that  is,  after  full 
deliberation.  If  he  rejected  some  after  deliberation,  it 
is  a natural  inference  that  in  accepting  those  he  did  he 
went  through  the  same  critical  process.  At  any  rate, 
he  draws  a clearly  marked  line  between  the  kinds  of 
stories  fit  or  unfit  to  be  told.  That  which  disgusts  or 
revolts  the  minds  of  all  is  outside  the  province  of  true 
art,  and  must  therefore  not  be  handled.  He  acted 
throughout  in  accordance  with  his  convictions.  He 
never  lingers  long  on  any  incidents  peculiarly  painful. 
We  see  this  exemplified  in  his  description  of  scenes  of 
strife  and  carnage.  The  incidents  are  never  of  a revolt- 
ing character.  He  felt  with  Theseus  in  the  Knight’s 
tale  that  he  did  not  desire  the  unnecessary  effusion  of 
blood ; that  indiscriminate  slaughter  in  a story,  like  in- 
discriminate killing  in  real  life,  is  not  a feature  which  a 
properly  constituted  mind  can  contemplate  with  satis- 
faction. 

Distinctions  of  the  kind  made  by  Chaucer  in  the 
character  of  the  stories  to  be  told  would  never  be 
accepted  by  that  criticism  which  sets  above  everything 


356  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

else  moral  quality,  and  in  comparison  with  it  pays  little 
heed  to  literary  or  artistic  quality.  Perhaps  they  may 
be  justly  deemed  insufficient  in  themselves.  The  ex- 
tremest  advocate  of  art  for  art’s  sake,  even  if  he  ignores 
morality,  need  not  feel  called  upon  to  insult  it.  In  order 
to  attain  simplicity,  it  is  not  necessary  to  adopt  nudity. 
If  a deference  to  the  highest  art  forbids  a man  from 
portraying  scenes  that  are  revolting  to  the  aesthetic 
nature,  why  should  it  not  equally  forbid  his  describing 
incidents  that  are  offensive  to  the  moral  nature  ? This 
is  not  a demand  that  works  of  imagination  shall  be 
limited  exclusively  to  the  portraiture  of  certain  phases 
of  human  conduct.  It  is  that  its  representations  of  life 
should  not  make  unduly  prominent  the  life  that  is  not 
worth  living.  Drunkenness  prevails,  lust  bestializes, 
cruelty  rages.  No  observer  of  society  can  fail  to  see 
the  baleful  manifestations  of  all  these.  They  are  forces 
upon  whose  appearance  and  activity  we  have  constantly 
to  reckon.  Still,  there  are  equally  true  and  far  sweeter 
and  nobler  things  to  be  recorded  of  human  nature  than 
these.  It  can  hardly  be  called  a healthy  intellectual 
instinct  that  delights  to  batten  upon  garbage  merely  to 
make  emphatic,  what  every  one  knows  already,  that 
garbage  exists. 

Into  the  general  question  of  the  correctness  or  incor- 
rectness of  the  poet’s  position  it  is  not  important  to 
enter  here.  It  is  enough  to  point  out  the  side  which 
he  was  on.  One  or  two  things,  however,  it  is  necessary 
to  add,  as  they  may  to  some  extent  modify  our  judg- 
ment of  his  course.  There  is  no  sham  in  Chaucer.  He 
makes  no  pretence,  as  do  the  modern  dealers  in  obscen- 


HIS  TREATMENT  OF  THE  IMMORAL  357 

ity,  to  be  aiming  at  the  moral  regeneration  of  the  race. 
The  treatment  by  him  of  his  matter,  moreover,  is  some- 
thing altogether  distinct  from  that  which  has  in  later 
times  generally  characterized  works  of  the  sort  under 
discussion.  There  is  about  the  most  objectionable  of 
his  stories  nothing  of  that  steamy  licentious  atmosphere 
which  unconsciously  enervates  the  moral  sense,  even  if 
it  does  not  directly  stimulate  the  passions.  This  is  due 
in  a measure  to  his  outspokenness.  Chaucer  insinuates 
nothing,  suggests  nothing ; what  he  means  he  says  with 
almost  startling  distinctness.  Far  more,  however,  is  it 
due  to  the  fact  that  the  interest  of  the  story  as  a story 
does  not  depend  upon  the  sin  that  enters  into  it.  That 
may  be  essential  to  its  development.  It  is  not,  however, 
the  point  to  which  the  attention  is  supremely  directed. 
Ordinarily  it  is  in  truth  little  more  than  an  incident. 
In  the  Reeve’s  tale  it  is  the  rascality  of  the  miller  to 
which  the  thoughts  of  the  reader  are  turned.  In  the 
Merchant’s  tale  the  union  in  marriage  of  youth  and  age 
is  the  central  idea  about  which  the  whole  interest  of  the 
action  revolves.  Moreover,  while  Chaucer  recognized 
as  plainly  as  any  one  the  objections  that  would  be  urged 
against  these  stories,  it  is  fair  to  add  that  he  could  not 
have  anticipated  the  character  of  some  of  the  strictures 
to  which  they  have  been  subjected.  It  is  no  easy 
matter  for  an  author  even  in  his  own  time  to  attain  to 
the  moral  level  of  his  critics.  To  attain  to  that  of  the 
critics  of  later  times  with  their  changing  canons  of  pro- 
priety is  quite  hopeless.  In  much  of  the  comment  that 
has  been  made  upon  these  productions  there  has  un- 
questionably been  mingled  a good  deal  of  cant.  The 


358  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

censure  has  not  been  due  to  any  genuine  feeling  in  the 
matter,  but  has  found  utterance  in  deference  to  that  tone 
of  conventional  propriety  and  decorum  which  the  puri- 
fied spirit  of  modern  times  demands  in  a certain  class  of 
works  and  is  absolutely  indifferent  to  in  others.  We 
who  are  never  tedious,  never  commonplace,  never  vulgar, 
can  afford  to  characterize  with  some  severity  the  places 
where  Chaucer  falls  below  our  own  lofty  standard  of 
speech  and  morals.  But  a generation  which  can  stand 
without  shock  the  modern  newspaper  is  hardly  entitled 
to  assume  any  superior  airs  of  virtue,  to  say  nothing  of 
delicacy,  over  the  one  that  delighted  in  the  broadest  of 
his  tales. 

Still,  while  it  would  be  grossly  unjust  to  stigmatize 
Chaucer  as  an  immoral  writer  on  account  of  these 
stories,  it  is  difficult  to  go  as  far  as  some  and  assume 
that  they  are  absolutely  inoffensive,  and  that  we  can 
venture  to  look  upon  him  in  consequence  as  a bulwark 
of  morality.  It  is  the  misfortune  of  all  work  of  this 
kind  that  it  will  attract  to  itself  a certain  class  of  minds 
who  are  incapable  of  relishing  the  genius  it  exhibits, 
but  have  a morbid  scent  for  the  filth  it  contains.  The 
lesson  these  tales  convey  is  in  most  instances  a very 
salutary  one;  but  it  is  useless  to  pretend  that  for  many 
they  are  direct  provocatives  to  virtue.  They  do  not 
make  for  righteousness.  Yet  the  student  of  literary 
history  will  at  first  be  puzzled  to  explain  the  impor- 
tance that  has  been  attributed  to  them  in  connection 
with  the  poet.  Why  has  attention  in  the  past  been  so 
largely  called  to  these  stories,  to  the  exclusion  of  his 
other  work  ? Why  has  their  production  fastened  a re- 


THE  HUMOROUS  TALES  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY  359 

proach  upon  the  author  in  the  eyes  of  many  which  has 
never  been  visited  upon  full  as  great  offenders  as  he,  if 
not  much  greater?  The  tales  to  which  exception  can  be 
taken  form  but  a small  proportion  of  Chaucer’s  writings. 
Had  his  great  work  been  completed  on  the  scale  he  con- 
templated, the  proportion  would  doubtless  liave  been 
far  smaller.  Why,  then,  should  he  be  singled  out  for 
special  reprobation?  Why  should  these  pieces  receive 
constant  mention  in  connection  with  his  poetic  achieve- 
ment ? One  reason  for  this  condition  of  things  lies  on 
the  surface.  It  is  his  outspokenness,  of  which  mention 
has  already  been  made.  The  bluntness  of  his  expres- 
sion comes  upon  many  minds  with  a sense  of  shock. 
There  is  no  resort  to  those  euphemistic  devices  which 
may  not  make  us  insensible  to  the  sin  related,  but  do 
keep  out  of  sight  sin’s  essential  grossness.  So  far  as 
this  freedom  of  utterance  is  offensive  to  modern  taste 
and  not  to  morality,  it  is  of  course  not  to  be  censured. 
If  outspokenness  is  to  be  deemed  corrupting,  we  must 
prepare  to  abandon  our  Bibles.  It  is  well  known,  in- 
deed, that  there  are  sensitive  souls  who  are  so  disgust- 
ed with  the  plain-speaking  of  that  work  that,  according 
to  their  own  assertion,  they  refuse  to  read  it  on  that  ac- 
count. 

There  is  still  another  reason  for  the  excessive  promi- 
nence given  to  this  side  of  Chaucer’s  creation.  The  wide 
familiarity  with  it  has  been  in  a measure  due  to  accident. 
It  is  the  result  of  the  difficulty  with  which  the  poet’s 
writings  were  read  in  consequence  of  the  change  in 
the  character  of  the  language.  The  decline  which  took 
place  in  his  literary  reputation  on  this  account  was  fol- 


360  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

lowed  by  a decline  in  his  moral  reputation.  As  interest 
in  his  writings  became  less,  those  of  the  more  elevated 
type  were  the  first  to  suffer  from  neglect.  The  pieces 
written  in  the  comic  vein,  as  appealing  to  a larger  class, 
retained  their  popularity  longer.  Attention  came  final- 
ly to  be  directed  to  them  as  the  supremely  characteris- 
tic work  of  their  author.  This  will  account  largely  for 
the  epithet  “ merry  ” so  constantly  applied  to  Chaucer 
for  the  hundred  years  following  the  Restoration.  It 
had,  indeed,  been  employed  earlier.  In  the  play  en- 
titled ‘ The  Return  from  Parnassus,’  which  was  brought 
out  in  1606,  that  very  adjective  is  found  in  connection 
with  his  name.  But  it  was  not  till  the  end  of  the  same 
century  that  it  came  into  frequent  use.  From  that  time 
it  is  found  constantly.  Much  the  more  numerous  pro- 
portion of  the  references  to  Chaucer  that  occur  between 
1660  and  1775  are  made  to  his  humorous  tales.  In  fact, 
as  has  been  mentioned  elsewhere,  the  impression  came 
to  prevail  with  most  that  these  were  about  the  only  kind 
of  tales  he  did  write.  Men,  in  truth,  will  be  sure  to 
find  what  they  go  to  seek.  Consequently,  while  Chau- 
cer in  the  sixteenth  centuiy^  was  reckoned  by  the  fierce 
moralists  of  that  time  among  religious  reformers  and 
theological  writers,  he  came  to  be  considered  by  the 
dissolute  minds  of  the  eighteenth  century  as  principal- 
ly distinguished  for  the  production  of  loose  stories. 

This  feeling  came  to  be  widespread.  One  result  of  it 
was  the  complete  misapprehension  of  the  meaning  of 
the  prologue  of  the  Wife  of  Bath’s  tale,  both  by  those 
who  approved  and  those  who  disapproved  of  it.  Pope 
misunderstood  it,  but  modernized  it ; and  his  course  in 


THE  HUMOROUS  TALES  IN  LITERARY  HISTORY  361 

SO  doing  gave  offence  to  some.  When  in  1714  Steele 
published  his  ‘ Poetical  Miscellany/  he  had  as  one  of  his 
contributors  Mr.  John  Hughes.  This  gentleman  was 
one  of  those  respectable  but  exceedingly  dreary  authors 
whose  works  literary  antiquaries  feel  bound  to  read, 
because  their  contemporaries  would  not.  He  had  at 
first  furnished  a number  of  contributions  to  this  ‘ Miscel- 
lany.’ But  he  withdrew  most  of  them  as  soon  as  he 
found  that  Pope’s  version  of  the  prologue  of  the  Wife 
of  Bath’s  tale  was  to  make  its  appearance  in  the  volume, 
as  well  as  some  other  pieces  that  were  inconsistent  with 
his  ideas  of  decency  and  decorum.  This,  at  least,  is  the 
reason  given  by  his  biographer.^  The  action  of  Hughes 
in  the  matter  was  not,  however,  thoroughly  consistent. 
Though  he  withdrew  most,  he  did  not  withdraw  all. 
The  fact  that,  in  spite  of  his  scruples  of  conscience,  he 
allowed  two  smaller  pieces  to  appear  anonymously,  sug- 
gests to  the  censorious  mind  that  the  failure  of  the  rest 
of  his  pieces  to  be  included  may  have  been  due  not  so 
much  to  his  own  wish  as  to  the  wish  of  the  editor ; that 
the  determining  motive  in  their  non-publication  was 
not  the  inconsistency  of  the  other  pieces  with  his  ideas, 
but  the  inconsistency  of  his  pieces  with  the  ideas  of 
others.  Be  that  as  it  may,  his  defection  did  not  alarm 
Steele.  Pope’s  version  of  the  prologue  to  the  Wife  of 
Bath’s  tale  occupies  the  post  of  honor  in  the  ‘ Miscel- 
lany,’ though  there  is  little  in  the  volume  to  make  con- 
tribution to  it  an  honor. 

The  feeling  which  regarded  the  poet  as  especially  a 

Letters  by  Several  Eminent  Per-  etc.^hy  John  Duncombe  (London, 
sons  Deceased^  including  the  Corrc-  1773),  2d  ed.,  vol.  i.,  p.  xvii. 
spondence  of  John  Hughes,  Esq., 


362  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

comic  author  continued  down  to  our  century.  It  has 
affected  the  judgments  of  men  even  when  they  no 
longer  read  the  tales  upon  which  the  feeling  was  based. 
It  has  led  as  late  as  the  present  generation  to  the  sur- 
prising criticism — if  anything  in  criticism  can  be  deemed 
surprising — that  Chaucer  cannot  take  his  place  among 
the  world’s  greatest  authors  because  he  is  not  a serious 
writer.  It  shows  how  beliefs  survive  after  the  facts  or 
fictions  upon  which  they  were  founded  have  perished 
that  this  view  was  expressed  by  so  acute  and  accom- 
plished a critic  as  the  late  Matthew  Arnold.  He  in- 
formed us  that  Chaucer  could  hardly  be  classed  with 
Homer,  with  Dante,  with  Shakspeare,  not  because  he 
lacked  genius  equal  to  theirs — which  is  a perfectly  de- 
fensible position — but  because  he  lacked  seriousness. 
He  found  this  quality,  though  in  fitful  flashes,  in  the 
voice  of  a man  like  Villon,  who  lived  a life  of  riot  and 
crime  in  the  slums  of  Paris.  He  proceeded  to  illustrate 
his  meaning  by  quoting  a stanza  from  a ballade  of  that 
poet.  This,  he  asserted,  contained  more  of  the  impor- 
tant poetic  virtue  of  seriousness  than  all  of  the  produc- 
tions of  Chaucer  put  together.^  The  selection  was  a some- 
what unfortunate  one.  It  so  happens  that  the  identical 
thought  in  Villon’s  verse  which  Arnold  selected  for 
comment  and  commendation  had  been  previously  ex- 
pressed by  the  English  poet  with  peculiar  power.  In- 
deed, if  there  is  anything  supremely  characteristic  of 
Chaucer — and  plenty  of  illustrations  of  the  fact  have 
been  furnished  in  this  work — it  is  his  consciousness  of 
the  burden  of  sorrow  that  rests  upon  human  life.  The 

^ Introduction  to  Ward’s  English  Poets,  vol.  i.,  pp.  xxxiv.,  xxxv. 


EXCELLENCE  OF  THE  HUMOROUS  TALES  363 

joyousness  of  his  nature  is  unquestionably  fully  reflect- 
ed in  his  productions;  but  it  is  never  the  joyousness 
that  springs  from  indifference  or  recklessness.  Nor  is  it 
inconsistent  with  an  undertone  of  melancholy.  On  the 
contrary,  the  refrain  that  recurs  regularly  in  his  writings 
is  the  transitoriness  of  happiness ; that  over  the  future 
of  all  of  us  the  black  shadow  of  calamity  is  ever  im- 
pending. It  was  not,  in  truth,  lack  of  seriousness  on 
the  part  of  the  poet  that  led  to  the  surprising  remark 
that  has  just  been  quoted ; it  was  lack  of  knowledge  on 
the  part  of  his  critic. 

The  outspokenness  of  Chaucer’s  expression  and  the 
historic  valuation  of  his  writings  will  account  to  some 
extent  for  the  special  attention  given  to  the  tales  under 
discussion.  But  they  will  not  account  for  it  entirely 
nor  even  principally.  The  real  reason  is  something  of 
an  essentially  different  nature.  It  is  one,  too,  which 
will  always  continue  to  operate.  The  difficulty  with 
what  moralists  would  call  Chaucer’s  bad  work  is  that  it 
is  so  good.  There  is  a lightness,  an  airiness,  a grace  of 
expression,  a keenness  of  observation  and  comment,  a 
sustained  Cwcerest  of  narration  in  these  stories  which 
raise  ttem  to  the  very  highest  rank  in  the  creations  of 
their  class.  The  characters  in  these  humorous  tales, 
while  they  are  usually  of  low  position,  are  nevertheless 
the  most  delightful  sinners  in  the  range  of  poetic  fiction. 
The  incidents  themselves  may  be  of  the  kind,  as  Clough 
said,  which  are  still  relished  in  public-houses  in  farming 
districts  ; but  the  accessories  with  which  they  are  invest- 
ed by  the  poet  take  them  out  of  the  realm  of  vulgar  nar- 
rative, and  appeal  to  the  literary  sense  with  a charm  that 


CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 


364 

few  productions  on  more  elevated  themes  inspire.  Here- 
in Chaucer  stands  at  the  opposite  pole  from  Shakspeare. 
The  work  of  the  latter  abounds  in  coarse  allusions,  in 
filthy  conceits,  in  double  meanings.  But  these  passages 
in  the  great  dramatist’s  writings  are  supremely  uninter- 
esting. They  are  as  tedious  as  they  are  vile.  They  can- 
not be  called  innocent,  but  they  are  innocuous,  owing  to 
the  saving  grace  of  stupidity.  When  Shakspeare  appeals 
to  the  lower  nature,  he  does  it  largely  through  the  agen- 
cy of  verbal  quibbles,  which  are,  if  possible,  more  exe- 
crable intellectually  than  they  are  morally.  To  trace 
the  allusions  contained  in  them,  to  unravel  the  obscuri- 
ties inwrapped  in  them,  involve  a degree  of  labor  which 
few  are  willing  to  bestow,  or  a previous  acquaintance 
with  human  nastiness  that  few  have  qualified  them- 
selves to  possess.  The  result  is  that  these  things  are 
constantly  passed  over  unnoticed.  There  is  little  at- 
traction in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge  peculiarly  difficult 
to  acquire,  and  with  which,  when  obtained,  the  acquirer 
is  more  disgusted  than  pleased.  But  there  is  nothing 
like  this  in  Chaucer.  His  work  of  the  kind  is  perfect 
in  its  kind.  The  tale  is  attractive,  not  )n  :tatse  it  is 
coarse,  but  because  it  is  charmingly  told..  Even  the 
stoutest  defender  of  the  poet’s  procedure  as  being  true 
to  life  and  true  to  art  can  hardly  fail  to  entertain  at 
times  the  wish  that  he  had  been  a little  less  faithful  to 
his  principles,  and  that  his  bad  stories  were  not  quite  so 
bad. 

Because  Chaucer  has  been  defended  frorh  many  of 
the  charges  brought  against  him,  it  is  not  to  be  inferred 
that  fault  can  be  found  with  him  only  by  those  who  are 


INFLUENCE  OF  HIS  LEARNING  365 

sensitive,  duly  or  unduly,  on  the  score  of  morals.  On 
the  purely  intellectual  side  grave  defects  manifestly 
exist.  While  I have  striven  to  show  that  he  was  a great 
literary  artist,  and  that  his  greatness  as  an  artist  was  not 
only  a growth,  but  a conscious  growth,  I am  not  seeking 
to  maintain  the  view  that  even  in  his  best  estate  he  was 
flawless.  There  are  not  only  times  when  he  falls  below 
his  ideal,  but  when  his  ideal  itself  comes  short  of  what 
we  should  expect  him  to  reach.  The  most  flagrant  of  his 
failures  in  this  respect  was  due  to  his  possession  of  those 
supposed  vast  acquirements  for  which  he  has  received 
praise  so  unstinted.  Whether  these  were  great  or  little, 
they  sometimes  stood  in  the  way  of  the  artistic  per- 
fection of  his  work.  In  the  case  of  a writer  of  original 
genius,  learning  is  a good  servant  but  a bad  master.  It 
has  made  men  timid  where  they  should  have  been  bold. 
It  has  hampered  creative  activity  by  imposing  upon  it 
the  check  of  so-called  authority.  It  has  made  the  truth 
of  life  subordinate  to  the  truth  of  facts  and  dates.  In 
one  way  it  did  not  interfere  with  Chaucer  as  it  has  done 
constantly  with  later  writers.  With  these  latter  atten- 
tion to  accuracy  of  detail  has  often  weakened  and  some- 
times destroyed  the  general  effect  at  which  they  aim. 
It  has  sometimes  made  the  accessories  so  important 
that  the  principal  matter  has  come  to  be  forgotten. 
This  was  not  a danger  to  which  Chaucer  was  exposed. 
It  was  not  exactness  he  troubled  himself  about.  His  fault 
was  of  an  entirely  different  cast.  It  was  the  dragging-in 
of  learning  at  irrelevant  times  and  places,  not  because  it 
had  even  a remote  connection  with  the  subject,  but  be- 
cause it  seemed  to  him  curious  and  interesting.  There 


366  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

was,  in  fact,  a perpetual  conflict  going  on  between  his 
instincts  as  an  artist  and  his  natural  desire  in  an  age  of 
ignorance  to  display  his  acquirements.  There  are  doubt- 
less other  considerations  to  be  taken  into  account  in  the 
explanation  of  the  course  he  followed.  He  had  begun 
his  career  as  a translator,  and  the  feelings  of  the  translator 
clung  to  him.  His  enjoyment  of  what  he  found  beauti- 
ful in  a foreign  tongue  was  so  intense  that  it  was  inevi- 
table he  should  seek  to  reproduce  for  others  what  had 
delighted  himself.  This,  even  if  it  be  deemed  a pallia- 
tion, can  hardly  be  regarded  as  a justification.  Con- 
sciousness of  the  excellence  of  others  is  a good  thing; 
but  not  if  it  impairs  one’s  own  excellence.  Nor  is  it 
any  more  a justification  that  the  practice  in  which  he 
indulged  was  common  among  early  authors.  He  was  a 
supreme  literary  artist.  As  such  he  was  bound  to  as- 
cend above  the  atmosphere  of  the  contemporary  and 
conventional  in  which  inferior  men  live  and  breathe. 
He  was  a writer  for  all  time,  and  not  for  the  time.  He 
was  therefore  bound  to  free  himself  from  the  limitations 
of  the  time. 

Of  this  intrusion  of  irrelevant  learning  there  are  many 
examples.  They  can  be  found,  too,  in  his  latest  work, 
though  neither  so  frequently  nor  so  conspicuously  as  in 
his  earlier.  For  some  of  them  a certain  sort  of  excuse 
can  be  made.  The  long  disquisition  in  which  the  Par- 
doner indulges  on  the  evil  effects  of  drunkenness  and 
gaming,  with  its  abundance  of  historical  illustrations, 
breaks  the  thread  of  the  tale  he  relates,  and  adds  noth- 
ing to  its  effect.  Yet  while  from  the  story-teller’s  point 
of  view  it  must  be  condemned,  it  may  be  defended  upon 


INTRUSION  OF  IRRELEVANT  LEARNING  367 

the  ground  of  dramatic  propriety.  It  was  entirely  in 
keeping  with  the  character  of  the  narrator  and  the 
methods  he  was  wont  to  use  in  his  preaching.  Though 
his  discourse  was  mainly  upon  the  sin  of  avarice,  it  was 
part  of  his  business  to  improve  any  occasion  which  gave 
him  the  opportunity  to  rebuke  particular  sins  by  per- 
tinent examples.  This  apology,  whether  sufficient  or 
not,  furnishes  at  any  rate  the  only  ground  upon  which 
the  introduction  of  the  passage  can  be  justified.  An 
argument  of  a somewhat  similar  nature  can  be  pleaded, 
but  by  no  means  satisfactorily,  for  another  series  of 
historical  references  in  the  Franklin’s  tale.  In  it  the 
heroine  recounts  a number  of  stories  of  women  who 
have  sacrificed  their  lives  rather  than  their  virtue.  The 
incidents  are  indeed  germane  to  the  subject ; but  the 
barest  reference  is  all  that  would  be  needed  here,  and 
not  a formal  recital  of  the  facts.  The  only  excuse  that 
can  be  made  for  the  poet  in  both  these  cases  is  that 
the  English  race,  as  a race,  likes  to  be  preached  to  and 
to  be  preached  at.  The  details  which  strike  us  as  an 
excrescence  may  have  seemed  to  his  contemporaries  an 
ornament.  It  is  perhaps  an  illustration  of  the  essen- 
tially mutable  nature  of  taste,  and  the  criticism  that  is 
based  upon  it,  that  the  very  things  with  which  we  should 
find  fault  are  possibly  among  the  things  which  recom- 
mended him  to  the  favor  of  his  time. 

But  even  a defence  of  this  sort  will  not  avail  in  the 
instances  that  come  now  to  be  considered.  There  are 
certain  works  and  certain  subjects  which  profoundly  in- 
terested Chaucer.  It  is  hard  for  him  to  tear  himself 
away  from  them,  even  when  he  is  conscious  that  what 


368  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

he  says  is  foreign  to  the  matter  in  hand.  The  first 
book  of  the  ‘House  of  Fame’  furnishes  a remarkable 
example  of  this  practice.  It  is  little  more  than  an  epit- 
ome of  the  story  of  .^neas  as  told  by  Virgil.  It  has  no 
real  connection  with  the  main  subject  which  the  poet  has 
taken  for  his  theme.  That  permitted  a reference  to  the 
tale  of  Troy,  but  not  an  account  of  it,  nor  of  any  episode 
in  it,  nor  of  one  growing  out  of  it.  Chaucer  is  himself 
secretly  conscious  of  the  fact.  He  has  stationed  him- 
self in  this  book  in  the  house  of  Venus,  where  he  has  no 
business  to  be,  or  in  which  certainly  there  was  no  occa- 
sion for  him  to  linger.  But  the  beauty  of  the  poem 
which  is  before  his  mind  has  impressed  him  so  forcibly 
that  he  is  loath  to  leave  it.  The  story  it  recounts  occu- 
pies his  attention  rather  than  the  attempt  to  reach  the 
house  of  Fame.  So  great  is  his  admiration  for  it  that 
he  is  almost  inclined  to  add  to  the  details  of  Virgil  the 
translation  of  the  epistle  of  Dido  to  ^neas  as  given  by 
Ovid.  He  does  not  do  it,  indeed.  Yet  it  is  nothing  but 
the  sense  of  what  was  due  to  his  art  that  keeps  him 
from  yielding  to  the  temptation.  From  the  recital  of 
the  particulars  attending  the  death  of  the  Carthaginian 
queen  he  drags  himself  as  if  by  force,  and  ends  at  last 
all  reference  to  her  with  words  which  sound  to  our  ears 
somewhat  profanely  as  well  as  very  regretfully : 

“And  nere  it  were’  too  long  to  endite, 

By  God,  I would  it  here  write.  382. 

There  is  the  same  feeling  displayed  in  regard  to  the 
same  author  and  in  connection  with  the  same  story  in 


’ Were  it  not  that  it  were. 


INTRUSION  OF  IRRELEVANT  LEARNING  369 

the  ‘ Legend  of  Good  Women.’  Nothing  but  the  limi- 
tation of  time  prevents  his  making  a complete  transla- 
tion. 

“ I coulde  follow  word  for  word  Virgile, 

But  it  would  lasten  all  too  long  a while,”  1003. 

is  the  mournful  comment  of  the  poet  as  he  unwillingly 
passes  away  from  the  particular  incident  of  which  he  has 
been  speaking. 

The  appearance  of  this  epitome  of  the  ^neid  in  the 
‘House  of  Fame’  has  been  explained  upon  other  and 
widely  different  grounds,  some  of  which  are  of  a highly 
philosophical  nature.  It  is  in  truth  an  exemplification 
on  a larger  scale  of  what  Chaucer  did  frequently  upon  a 
smaller.  The  fact  that  he  was  dealing  with  an  igno- 
rant generation  led  him  to  put  details  and  definitions 
in  the  mouths  of  his  characters  which  strike  the  mod- 
ern reader  with  a curious  sense  of  impertinence,  and 
would  in  real  life  have  struck  the  persons  to  whom  the 
remarks  were  addressed  as  contributions  to  knowledge 
rather  than  to  conversation.  He  sometimes  forgot  the 
poet  in  the  lexicographer.  There  is  an  almost  grotesque 
instance  of  this  in  one  of  the  most  fervent  love  scenes 
he  describes.  Cressida,  in  her  final  parting  interview 
with  Troilus,  vows  her  fidelity  by  the  celestial  gods  and 
goddesses,  by  the  nymphs,  and  by  the  deities  of  the  in- 
fernal world.  Not  content  with  these,  she  swears  her 
faith  also 

“On  satury  and  fauny  more  or  less.”  iv.,  1554. 

The  moment  she  has  added  these  she  is  apparently  tor- 
mented by  the  apprehension  that  her  lover  may  not 
III.— 24 


370  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

know  who  the  divinities  are  whom  she  has  just  men- 
tioned. She  thereupon  proceeds  to  insert  the  explana- 
tory statement  that  they  are  ‘'half-gods  of  wilderness.” 
It  is  not  to  be  imagined  that  Troilus  stood  in  need  of 
this  definition.  It  is  the  reader  of  the  poem  of  whom 
Chaucer  was  thinking.  Even  if  the  hero  of  the  piece 
could  be  supposed  ignorant  of  his  religion,  the  moment 
of  relieving  sorrow  and  pledging  troth  is,  to  say  the 
least,  inappropriate  for  interjecting  general  informa- 
tion. 

Cressida  herself  meets  with  the  same  treatment  at  the 
hands  of  her  new  admirer.  Diomede,  in  the  course  of 
the  love-suit  he  is  making  to  her,  uses  the  word  ‘am- 
bages.’* Before  going  on  with  his  addresses  he  consider- 
ately proceeds  to  define  it,  and  for  that  purpose  employs 
two  lines — a somewhat  unnecessary  measure,  it  might 
seem,  to  adopt  in  the  case  of  a heroine  who  had  pre- 
viously been  represented  capable  of  remarking  that  the 
gods  speak  in  ‘amphibologies.’^  In  the  Franklin’s  tale 
occurs  still  another  instance  which,  though  not  so  pro- 
nounced in  character,  is  of  the  same  general  nature.  It 
is  possibly  of  even  more  special  interest,  because  it  illus- 
trates a practice  which  has  never  died  out.  It  is  found 
in  the  prayer  which  Aurelius  is  represented  as  making 
to  Apollo.  In  the  course  of  it  he  begs  the  divinity  to 
intercede  with  his  sister,  Lucina,  the  moon-goddess,  as 
being  the  supreme  ruler  of  the  waters.  But  this  was  a 
statement  of  her  power  and  position  that  differed  from 
the  general  belief.  The  petitioner,  therefore,  parenthet- 
ically inserted  these  explanatory  lines: 


* Troilus  and  Cressida^  v. , 897. 


Ib. , iv. , 1406. 


IMPROPER  DIGRESSIONS 


371 


“ Though  Neptunus  have  deity  in  the  sea, 

Yet  emperess  aboven'  him  is  she.”  320. 

It  is  obvious  that  words  like  these  are  not  strictly  part 
of  any  prayer.  They  were  not  needed  for  the  enlight- 
enment of  the  sun-god,  nor  were  they  designed  to  affect 
his  action.  They  do  not  belong  to  the  character  who  is 
communing  with  the  immortals.  They  are  the  remarks 
of  Chaucer  to  the  mortal  readers  of  the  tale. 

The  desire  to  communicate  information  was,  more- 
over, apt  to  lead  the  poet  into  digressions  which  were 
entirely  unsuitable  to  the  matter  in  hand.  In  the  ‘ Book 
of  the  Duchess  ’ the  mourning  husband  gives  an  account 
of  the  perfections  of  his  dead  consort.  So  supreme  was 
she  to  all  others  that  he  would  have  made  choice  of  her, 
had  he  himself  been  possessed  of  the  beauty  of  Alcibi- 
ades,  of  the  strength  of  Hercules,  of  the  worthiness  of 
Alexander,  of  the  riches  of  various  countries,  of  the 
hardiness  of  Hector.  The  mention  of  this  last-named 
personage  brings  to  mind  the  fact  that  he  was  slain  by 
Achilles.  The  disconsolate  man  accordingly  turns  aside 
for  a few  lines  to  inform  the  one  to  whom  he  is  bewail- 
ing his  misfortunes  that  the  Greek  hero  was  slain  in  his 
turn  for  love  of  Polyxena,  and  perished  in  a temple  along 
with  Antilochus,  according  to  the  testimony  of  Dares 
Phrygius.'  A little  farther  on  in  the  same  passage  the 
grief-stricken  mourner  is  represented  as  speaking  of  the 
songs  he  made  in  honor  of  his  mistress.  He  was,  he 
tells  us,  unable,  indeed,  to  rival  in  this  respect  Tubal — 
probably  a scribal  error  for  Jubal — the  son  of  Lamech, 
who  was  the  first  to  find  out  the  art  of  song.  This  leads 


^ Lines  1056-1072. 


372  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

him  to  go  off  into  a disquisition  upon  the  way  Tubal 
happened  to  make  this  particular  discovery.  Nor  does 
he  stop  at  that  point.  He  is  troubled  by  the  feeling 
that  this  is  a matter  in  which  absolute  certainty  cannot 
be  attained.  His  reputation  for  accuracy,  therefore,  is 
at  stake.  Not  wishing  to  mislead  his  hearer,  he  proceeds 
to  add  that  the  Greeks  insist  that  it  was  to  Pythagoras 
the  art  was  due.^  These  are  particularly  gross  devia- 
tions from  propriety  caused  by  the  anxiety  to  display 
knowledge.  But  in  the  very  same  poem  there  are  sev- 
eral others,  though  on  a much  less  noticeable  scale. 
They  often  extend  to  no  more  than  a line.  Brief  as 
they  are,  they  are  numerous  enough  to  convey  the  im- 
pression that  at  the  period  of  his  life  in  which  this  work 
was  written  Chaucer  had  not  yet  arrived  at  a clear  com- 
prehension of  the  distinction  that  exists  between  the 
functions  of  the  creator  of  literature  and  of  its  com- 
mentator. 

It  is,  however,  the  poet’s  passion  for  dialectics  that 
led  him  into  the  most  serious  violations  of  his  art. 
This  itself  was  strengthened  by  his  love  for  Boethius. 
From  the  principal  work  of  that  author  many  of  the 
ideas  scattered  through  his  poems  are  taken.  They  are 
sometimes  both  pertinent  and  forcible.  But  Chaucer 
could  not  refrain  from  introducing  extracts  from  him 
at  unseasonable  places  and  on  unseasonable  occasions. 
Almost  the  only  thing  that  impairs  in  the  least  the  per- 
fect unity  and  proportion  of  the  Knight’s  tale  is  a 
speech  of  over  one  hundred  lines  put  in  the  mouth  of 
Theseus  at  its  close.  Had  it  been  a third  as  long,  it 


^ Lines  1160-1169. 


PASSAGES  IMPROPERLY  INTRODUCED  373 

would  have  been  three  times  as  effective.  Much  of  it 
has  little  direct  relation  to  the  matter  in  hand.  It  is 
largely  an  elaborate  statement  of  the  not  very  recondite 
truth  that  according  to  the  design  of  the  Creator  every- 
thing must  come  to  an  end,  and  therefore  everybody 
must  sooner  or  later  die.  The  reason  that  influenced 
the  poet  to  extend  this  discourse  to  the  length  he  did 
was  not  its  necessity  to  the  development  of  the  idea  of 
the  transitoriness  of  things  earthly.  It  was  simply  be- 
cause it  gave  him  an  opportunity  to  introduce  a trans- 
lation of  several  passages  from  the  favorite  work  of  a 
favorite  author. 

There  is  even  worse  use  made  of  an  extract  from 
Boethius  to  the  effect  that  true  happiness  cannot  exist 
here  because  of  the  instability  of  fortune.  When  Cres- 
sida  is  told  by  Pandarus  that  Troilus  has  been  led  to 
suspect  her  constancy,  her  grief  on  account  of  the 
trumped-up  charge  takes  the  shape  of  a discussion  which 
she  carries  on  with  herself  upon  the  mutability  of  human 
joy.  She  lays  down  the  proposition  that  man  either 
knows  that  joy  is  transitory  or  he  knows  it  not.  If  he 
knows  it  not,  how  can  he  say  that  he  has  perfect  happi- 
ness when  he  is  in  the  darkness  of  ignorance?  If  he 
does  know  that  it  is  liable  to  pass  away,  he  must  always 
be  in  dread  of  losing  it.  If,  again,  he  is  indifferent  about 
its  disappearance,  that  of  itself  is  proof  that  his  joy  is 
very  slight.  In  consequence  the  felicity  of  which  we 
boast  in  this  our  life  is  vain.*  The  reasoning  may  or 
may  not  be  sound  ; but  there  is  no  question  that  it  is 

’Book  iii.,  lines  812-836.  The  of  the  second  book  of  the  translation 
original  is  found  in  the  fourth  Prose  of  Boethius. 


374  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

dreadfully  out  of  place.  A woman  who  finds  her  faith 
suspected  without  cause  is  not  apt  to  relieve  her  sorrow 
by  entering  into  a nicely  constructed  metaphysical  argu- 
ment to  prove  that  there  can  be  no  such  thing  as  hap- 
piness in  this  world. 

With  the  grossest  instance  of  the  failure  on  the  part 
of  Chaucer  to  comply  with  the  requirements  of  his  art,  I 
pass  from  this  branch  of  the  subject.  His  special  fond- 
ness for  the  questions  connected  with  the  doctrine  of 
free-will  and  predestination  has  been  mentioned  in  a 
previous  chapter.  It  is  not  always  a misfortune.  In 
the  Knight’s  tale  it  is  made  conducive  to  the  general 
effect.  In  the  tale  of  the  Nun’s  Priest  it  relieves  the 
situation  by  its  contrast  between  the  greatness  of  the 
questions  involved  and  the  pettiness  of  the  incidents 
upon  which  it  is  brought  to  bear.  But  in  ‘Troilus  and 
Cressida  ’ it  is  an  intrusion  of  the  worst  kind.  The  hero 
is  in  the  extremity  of  grief  at  the  enforced  departure  of 
his  mistress  from  Troy.  He  is  so  fallen  into  despair 
that  he  cares  not  whether  he  lives  or  dies.  But  his 
method  of  deploring  the  coming  calamity  is  unexampled 
on  the  part  of  a lover.  He  enters  into  a discussion  with 
himself  upon  the  doctrine  of  predestination.  Fully  one 
hundred  and  twenty  lines  he  takes  up  with  establishing 
the  proposition  that  everything  that  happens,  happens 
by  necessity.^  The  passage  is  a versification  of  the  ar- 
gument on  the  subject  of  God’s  foreknowledge  and 
man’s  free-will  that  is  contained  in  the  fifth  book  of  the 
treatise  of  Boethius.  It  utterly  interferes  with  the 
' movement  of  the  story.  It  is  tacked  to  it  by  the  flim- 


^ Book  iv. , lines  958-1078. 


HIS  ANACHRONISMS 


375 


siest  of  fastenings.  It  is  lacking  in  some  manuscripts, 
though  unfortunately  not  the  best  ones.  Still,  its  ab- 
sence bom  these  makes  it  reasonable  to  suppose  that  its 
addition  was  an  after-thought  which  in  this  case  was  not 
of  the  wisest. 

The  bad  taste  exhibited  by  the  poet  in  such  passages 
will  be  conceded  by  all.  His  most  fervent  admirers 
would  be  readiest  to  admit  the  justice  of  the  censure. 
But  there  are  other  methods  practised  by  Chaucer  about 
which  difference  of  opinion  has  existed  in  the  past  and  is 
likely  to  exist  in  the  future.  In  referring  to  his  anxiety 
to  display  his  knowledge  I have  observed  that  exactness 
of  detail  was  a matter  about  which  he  gave  himself  no 
concern.  This  leads  at  once  to  a point  in  the  criticism 
of  his  art  which  is  connected  remotely  with  his  learning, 
or  with  his  lack  of  it.  It  is  his  failure  to  make  his  de- 
scriptions correspond  to  the  truth  of  fact,  the  absolute 
indifference  he  displays  to  what  modern  criticism  would 
term  keeping  or  local  color.  The  result  is,  he  indulges 
constantly  in  anachronisms  and  in  confusions  of  time 
and  place.  Of  his  course  in  this  respect  there  has  been 
a good  deal  of  censure.  It  has  been  one  of  the  most 
frequent  reasons  given  for  the  charge  that  his  writings 
represent  the  crude  methods  of  a half-civilized,  not  to 
say  barbarous,  age ; and  that  he  conformed  to  them 
without  even  the  conception  that  any  better  methods 
were  in  existence.  This  was  a matter  that  weighed 
heavily  upon  the  spirits  of  his  admirers  during  the  last 
century.  Warton,  for  illustration,  thought  it  a great 
deal  to  the  credit  of  the  poem  and  somewhat  to  the 
credit  of  the  reader  that  the  latter  was  not  disgusted 


376  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

with  the  mixture  of  manners  and  the  confusion  of  times 
that  are  to  be  found  in  the  Knight’s  tale.  But  the 
stress  laid  upon  this  point  has  not  been  limiteo  to  for- 
mer periods.  It  is  heard  in  our  own  day.  With  the  con- 
stantly increasing  familiarity  with  the  inner  life  of  the 
past  it  is  liable  to  meet  with  still  more  attention  in  the 
future.  Singularly  enough,  many  of  the  qualifications 
that  have  modified  the  praise  bestowed  upon  the  sup- 
posed immensity  of  the  poet’s  learning  owe  their  origin 
to  the  horror  entertained  of  this  violation  of  propriety, 
as  it  is  called.  A general  impression  exists  in  regard  to 
Chaucer  and  other  early  authors  that  the  variations  from 
fact  found  in  their  writings  were  mistakes  of  ignorance 
on  their  part,  or  at  any  rate  of  carelessness.  They 
would  not  have  been  committed  had  the  writer  been  in 
possession  of  the  requisite  knowledge.  Certainly  they 
would-  not  have  been  committed  had  the  knowledge 
been  before  his  mind  at  the  time  of  writing.  But  no 
matter  how  these  variations  from  truth  came  into  being, 
their  appearance  evinces  great  lack  of  art.  This  at  least 
is  the  position  taken  by  many  critics. 

Anachronisms  in  Chaucer’s  writings  are  certainly  nu- 
merous. They  are  far  from  being  confined  to  particular 
incidents.  The  whole  action  of  the  piece  is  often  per- 
vaded by  their  spirit.  In  the  Knight’s  tale,  to  which 
reference  has  just  been  made,  this  is  very  conspicuous. 
It  is  in  the  time  of  the  Greek  heroic  age  that  the  events 
recorded  in  it  take  place ; but  the  atmosphere  which 
envelops  it  is  the  atmosphere  of  mediaeval  chivalry.  Not 
only  is  the  feudal  system,  with  its  ideas  and  feelings, 
transferred  to  the  mythologic  age  of  Greece,  but  even 


HIS  ANACHRONISMS 


377 


its  petty  peculiarities  of  manners  and  of  daily  life. 
Theseus  holds  at  Athens  a great  tournament.  It  is  not 
only  a fourteenth  - century  tournament  in  its  general 
characteristics,  but  also  in  its  smallest  details,  down  even 
to  the  costume  and  armor  of  those  who  take  part  in  it. 
One  of  the  combatants  is  even  furnished  with  a Prussian 
shield.  Later  in  the  story  one  of  the  weapons  borne 
at  the  funeral  of  Arcite  is  his  Turkish  bow.  Still, 
there  is  nothing  peculiar  about  the  Knight’s  tale  in  this 
respect.  A corresponding  state  of  things  can  be  found 
in  ‘ Troilus  and  Cressida.’  While  the  action  of  both 
these  poems  goes  on  in  the  legendary  period  of  Greek 
history,  all  their  proceedings  are  carried  on  in  strict  con- 
formity with  those  which  Chaucer  saw  taking  place  in 
his  own  time  and  country.  Theseus  has  at  Athens  a 
parliament  like  that  of  England,  and  announces  his  de- 
cisions as  having  been  reached  by  its  advice.  In  a sim- 
ilar way  Priam  assembles  a parliament  at  Troy  to  de- 
liberate upon  the  proposal  to  exchange  Cressida  for 
Antenor.  It  is  a noisy  English  representative  assembly 
that  is  described,  and  not  the  council  of  an  absolute 
monarch.  Lords  and  burgesses  are  mentioned  as  speak- 
ing and  voting  upon  the  question.  Hector’s  wise  ad- 
vice is  reported  as  overborne  by  the  clamor  of  the  rest 
of  the  assembly.  No  trace  of  this  last  incident  is  to  be 
found  in  Boccaccio.  A scene  in  which  the  heir  appar- 
ent to  the  throne  is  compelled  to  yield  his  own  prefer- 
ences to  the  outcries  of  a turbulent  and  motley  crowd  of 
his  followers  would  perhaps  have  been  as  foreign  to  the 
ideas  of  the  Italian  writer  as  they  would  have  been  to 
the  men  of  the  time  in  which  the  events  are  supposed 


378  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

to  have  taken  place.  Throughout,  indeed,  the  proceed- 
ings are  recounted  with  absolute  fidelity  to  the  contem- 
porary life  which  the  poet  saw  and  in  which  he  shared. 

It  would  be  no  easy  matter  to  exhaust  the  list  of  ex- 
amples of  this  sort.  In  the  second  book  of  ‘ Troilus  and 
Cressida’  the  heroine  is  represented  as  sitting  with  two 
other  ladies  within  a paved  parlor,”  and  listening  to  a 
maiden  who  read  them  the  story  of  the  siege  of  Thebes. 
There  is  nothing  objectionable  in  the  nature  of  the  tale 
that  is  told.  In  the  case  of  events  that  have  never  hap- 
pened at  all,  no  reason  can  well  be  given  why  one  should 
be  considered  as  having  taken  place  before  the  other ; 
and,  moreover,  in  the  realm  of  fable  the  war  of  Thebes 
preceded  that  of  Troy.  But  the  conversation  that  fol- 
lows shows  definitely  that  the  poem  of  Statius  was  the 
one  which  is  represented  as  having  been  read.  Though 
its  title  is  not  specified,  nor  the  name  of  its  author  men- 
tioned, yet  the  twelve  books  into  which  the  ‘ Thebaid  ’ 
is  divided  are  spoken  of  expressly.  This  is  an  instance 
somewhat  parallel  to  that  occurring  in  the  play  of 
‘Troilus  and  Cressida,’  in  which  Shakspeare  records  a 
speech  of  Ulysses  in  which  he  quotes  Aristotle.  Gower 
will  furnish  even  more  striking  illustrations.  In  one 
place  he  speaks  of  this  same  legendary  Greek  hero  as 
acquainted  with -the  rhetoric  of  Tully,  the  astronomy  of 
Ptolemy,  the  philosophy  of  Plato,  the  dreams  of  Daniel, 
the  proverbs  of  Solomon,  and  the  herbs  of  Macer.^ 

There  are  confusions  of  beliefs  and  times  full  as  strik- 
ing as  those  already  given.  Some  of  them  are  occasion- 
ally so  daring  as  almost  to  reach  the  neighborhood  of 


’ Book  iv.,  141-217. 


® Vol.  iii.,  p.  48  (Pauli). 


HIS  ANACHRONISMS 


379 


the  grotesque.  One  of  these,  impossible  in  every  way 
but  the  chronological  one,  is  particularly  venturesome. 
In  the  tale  of  the  Doctor  of  Physic,  Virginias  tells  his 
daughter  that,  to  save  her  from  Appius  Claudius,  he 
must  put  her  to  death.  The  Roman  maiden  begs  for  a 
little  while  to  bewail  her  fate.  As  a reason  for  this  re- 
quest she  cites  an  example  from  the  Old  Testament 
Scriptures.  Jephthah,  she  tells  her  father,  before  slaying 
his  daughter,  gave  her  a space  of  time  to  mourn  her  un- 
timely end.  It  is,  indeed,  in  matters  of  religion  that 
Chaucer  exhibits  the  most  glaring  instances  of  his  disre- 
gard of  what  was  characteristic  of  the  times  and  places 
to  which  the  scene  of  his  story  belongs.  In  the  ‘ Legend 
of  Good  Women  ’ we  are  told  that  Lucretia,  after  her 
self-murder,  was  looked  upon  by  the  Romans  as  a saint, 
and  her  day  was  thenceforth  hallowed.’  In  the  Frank- 
lin’s tale  the  lover  prays  to  Apollo,  though  the  action  of 
the  piece  takes  place  in  the  France  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
In  ‘Troilus  and  Cressida’  Calchas,  the  priest  of  the 
same  god,  is  styled  a bishop,  as  likewise  is  the  seer  Am- 
phiaraus.^  Pandarus  quotes  a Scripture  text,  and  in- 
forms the  hero  that  he  shall  be  saved  by  his  faith.^  The 
heroine,  living  in  the  period  of  the  Trojan  war,  thinks 
that,  instead  of  spending  her  time  in  idle  amusements, 
it  would  be  more  becoming  for  her  to  take  up  her  abode 
in  a cave,  and  read  the  lives  of  the  saints.'’ 

It  is,  however,  needless  to  multiply  these  illustrations. 
No  increase  in  the  number  could  add  anything  to  the 
force  of  the  significance  conveyed  by  those  which  have 
been  cited.  To  the  question  whether  the  existence  of 

^Linei87i,  1503.  ^ii.,ii8. 


38o  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

these  anachronisms  was  due  to  ignorance  or  to  indiffer- 
ence, they  seem  to  me  to  present  an  answer  that  is  abso- 
lutely conclusive.  The  former  may  or  may  not  have 
existed  in  any  given  case;  but  in  no  case  did  its  presence 
or  absence  affect  the  poet’s  action.  Chaucer  disregarded 
conformity  to  fact,  because  an  attempt  at  its  representa- 
tion did  not  enter  into  his  theory  of  his  art.  The  pas- 
sages in  which  he  unquestionably  varies  from  reality,  or 
supposed  reality,  by  design  are  often  essentially  distinct 
from  those  in  which  he  varies  from  it  through  lack  of 
knowledge.  In  the  Merchant’s  tale  Pluto  and  Proser- 
pine appear  as  king  and  queen  of  fairy-land.  This  is  a 
good  deal  of  a change  from  their  position  in  the  ancient 
mythology  as  the  sceptre-bearers  of  the  infernal  world. 
But  it  is  a change  intentionally  and  intelligently  made. 
It  is  easily  recognizable  from  the  ignorance  or  careless- 
ness displayed  in  a passage  in  'Troilus  and  Cressida,’ 
where  a heathen  character,  speaking  in  accordance  with 
heathen  beliefs,  describes  the  Manes  as  gods  of  pain.’ 
The  truth  is,  if  we  seek  for  conformity  to  fact  in  Chau- 
cer’s writings,  we  are  looking  for  something  which  he 
had  no  mind  to  give.  The  same  rule  holds  good  in  re- 
gard to  what  is  called  propriety,  at  any  rate  as  it  is  com- 
monly understood.  When,  to  make  use  of  the  illustra- 
tion just  furnished,  we  find  Pluto  and  Proserpine  not 
only  appearing  as  the  fairy  king  and  queen,  but  devot- 
ing themselves  to  the  exegesis  of  Scripture,  referring  to 
the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  and  discussing  the  moral 
character  of  Solomon,  we  feel  that  we  are  in  a region 
where  the  limitations  of  time  and  space  have  been  swept 


V.,  892. 


HIS  INDIFFERENCE  TO  FACT  38 1 

away,  and  a new  world  has  been  opened  to  us  in  which 
accredited  belief  has  only  so  much  sway  as  it  suits  the 
pleasure  of  the  poet  to  concede. 

There  are  those,  however,  who  do  not  take  this  view, 
either  of  the  art  of  poetry  or  of  Chaucer’s  art.  Any  dis- 
play of  indifference  to  the  truth  of  fact  is  not  a method 
of  procedure  which  meets  their  approval.  Art  with  them 
fails  in  reaching  even  remotely  its  ideal  when  it  conflicts 
with  what  they  call  propriety  ; and  propriety  consists 
largely  in  adhering  to  the  manners  and  customs  of  the 
times  in  which  the  events  described  take  place.  If, 
therefore,  such  men  are  admirers  of  the  poet,  they  feel 
called  upon  to  apologize  for  his  course  in  this  respect. 
The  plea  of  ignorance  is  the  one  usually  set  up.  In 
many  instances  it  can  be  deemed  sufficiently  satisfac- 
tory. It  is  obvious  that  the  failure  to  conform  to  this 
particular  canon  of  propriety,  if  it  be  judged  a binding 
one,  is  not  usually  the  fault  of  the  early  poet,  but  his 
misfortune.  Confusion  of  times  and  places  is  with  him 
a necessity  of  the  situation.  His  choice  lies  between 
saying  what  he  does,  or  saying  nothing  at  all.  What- 
ever opinion,  therefore,  we  may  entertain  of  the  abstract 
right  or  wrong  of  this  course  of  conduct,  we  must  con- 
cede that  it  was  the  only  course  open  to  Chaucer.  There 
were  no  means  accessible  to  him  or  to  any  other  ancient 
writer  to  study  up  the  details  of  the  dead  past  in  which 
the  events  happened  which  he  records.  He  had  no  way 
of  learning  how  men  lived  and  dressed  and  fought  in  re- 
mote periods.  If,  therefore,  he  portrayed  manners  at 
all,  he  must  portray  those  with  which  he  was  familiar. 
He  accordingly  imputed  to  the  people  of  other  times 


382  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

not  only  the  sentiments  of  his  own,  but  also  its  practices 
and  observances.  Whether  the  scene  be  laid  in  Athens 
or  Troy,  in  France  or  Italy,  the  air  we  breathe  is  English 
air,  the  men  we  meet  are  English  men.  His  readers  were 
not  particular.  They  did  not  know  the  minute  details 
which  would  have  enabled  them  to  scrutinize  the  fidel- 
ity to  costume  of  the  dress  the  hero  wore.  It  was 
enough  for  them  that  their  souls  should  be  absorbed  in 
the  interest  aroused  by  his  words  and  deeds. 

For  much  of  the  so-called  violation  of  propriety  that 
prevails  in  Chaucer’s  work  we  can  consequently  apolo- 
gize, if  apology  be  required,  on  the  ground  of  necessity. 
But  this  is  not  always  possible.  For  many  of  the  anach- 
ronisms which  have  been  mentioned  no  such  defence 
can  be  made.  They  could  easily  have  been  avoided 
without  interfering  in  the  slightest  with  the  conduct  of 
the  story.  Cressida,  for  instance,  to  use  an  illustration 
already  given,  could  have  been  represented  as  listening 
to  the  tale  of  Thebes  without  being  obliged  to  hear  it 
recited  from  a poem  not  yet  composed,  by  an  author  not 
yet  born,  in  a language  which  did  not  even  have  a liter- 
ary existence  at  the  time  she  was  supposed  to  have  been 
living.  This  is  a condition  of  things  that  could  no  more 
have  failed  to  attract  the  poet’s  attention  than  it  has 
that  of  his  critics.  We  are  consequently  compelled  to 
go  back  to  the  original  statement  that  this  treatment  of 
his  materials  was  not  the  result  of  ignorance  or  indiffer- 
ence, but  was  done  deliberately,  and  with  clear  percep- 
tion of  what  it  involved.  There  is  no  escape  from  the 
conclusion  that  in  works  of  the  imagination  accuracy  of 
detail  was  a feature  that  Chaucer  did  not  regard  as  wor- 


HIS  INDIFFERENCE  TO  FACT  383 

thy  of  consideration  ; that  the  fullest  knowledge  of  cer- 
tain given  facts  could  exist  in  his  mind  with  the  fullest 
indifference  to  them.  In  the  one  class  of  illustrations 
that  have  been  cited,  he  would  not  have  had  the  power 
to  arrive  at  the  exact  truth,  if  he  had  the  desire.  But 
those  of  the  other  class  show  that  he  did  not  have  the 
desire.  This  is  to  say  that  his  theory  of  his  art  is  en- 
tirely different  from  the  one  which  has  been  much  in 
vogue  since,  which  has  led  men  to  speak  of  him  specially 
as  being  either  careless  in  his  composition,  or  unable  to 
rise,  as  one  writer  expresses  it,  to  the  true  perception 
of  the  manners  and  social  conditions  of  ancient  peoples.s 
Chaucer  himself  would  clearly  have  looked  upon  an  asser- 
tion of  this  kind  as  an  absurd  criticism  based  upon  the 
incapacity  to  distinguish  between  what  is  essential  and 
non-essential  in  poetry.  This  brings  us  at  once  to  the 
consideration  of  another  question  upon  the  answer  to 
which  will  depend,  in  no  small  measure,  our  estimate  of 
him  as  a literary  artist.  It  is  clear  that  this  violation  of 
so-called  propriety  was  done  intentionally.  Was  it  done 
rightly  ? 

It  is  important  to  take  notice  at  the  outset  that  re- 
gard for  exactness  of  detail  in  works  of  the  imagina- 
tion is  with  us  not  only  a modern  feeling,  but  a very 
modern  feeling.  It  began  to  manifest  itself  with  the 
rise  of  a body  of  learned  men  who  in  consequence  of 
their  acquirements  came  to  look  upon  the  truth  of  fact 
as  being  on  an  equality  with  the  truth  of  life.  To  the 
former  the  early  poet,  whoever  he  was,  could  not  often 
attain.  For  it  he  certainly  never  cared.  He  may  or 
may  not  have  been  ignorant  of  it ; he  was  always  indif- 


384  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

ferent  to  it.  In  the  steadily  increasing  attention  paid 
to  accuracy  of  knowledge  this  has  become  a feeling 
with  which  the  man  of  our  time  is  less  and  less  able  to 
sympathize.  It  is  indeed  something  which  more  and 
more  he  finds  it  difficult  to  comprehend.  A good  deal 
was  said  even  in  his  own  day  because  in  one  of  his  com- 
edies Shakspeare  supplied  Bohemia  with  a sea-coast.  It 
was  spoken  of  with  censure  by  his  friend  Ben  Jonson, 
whose  learning  was  always  apt  to  dominate  his  art  in- 
stead of  subserving  it.  Sensibility  on  this  point  has 
not  diminished  since  the  period  in  which  the  dramatist 
flourished.  Modern  writers  have  sought  to  apologize 
for  the  poet’s  supposed  ignorance  or  to  explain  it  away. 
They  have  been  careful  to  point  out  that  the  same  sea- 
coast  exists  in  the  novel  from  which  the  play  was  taken. 
They  have  in  some  instances  gone  so  far  as  to  defend 
its  introduction  on  the  ground  that  one  of  the  Bohe- 
mian kings  purchased  and  for  a while  possessed  a port 
on  the  Adriatic.  By  this  means  they  save  Shakspeare 
from  the  charge  of  not  knowing  what  was  known  to 
most  by  crediting  him  with  knowing  what  has  scarcely 
been  known  to  any  one  else.  All  this  anxiety  might  have 
been  spared  if  men  remembered  that  for  the  accordance 
of  his  details  with  fact  Shakspeare  had  no  care.  The 
Bohemia  he  had  in  mind  was  as  ideal  as  the  mystic  Bo- 
hemia in  which  so  many  literary  swashbucklers  have  ruf- 
fled it  for  a while  to  leave  it  at  last  with  squandered  fort- 
unes and  wasted  lives.  It  bore  as  little  resemblance  to 
the  province  of  the  Austrian  empire  with  the  same  name 
as  the  Arcadia  of  reality  does  to  the  Arcadia  of  romance. 
Its  possession  of  a sea-coast  was  but  one  of  a half-dozen 


SHAKSPEARE’S  INDIFFERENCE  TO  FACT  385 

defiances  of  fact  in  the  same  play  with  nearly  all  of 
which  it  would  be  gross  folly  to  assume  that  the  author 
was  unacquainted.  His  Sicily  had  a king  which  that 
country  never  saw.  This  monarch  sends  to  consult  the 
oracle  of  Delphi,  situated  no  longer  on  the  mainland,  but 
on  an  island.  He  is  stricken  by  the  wrath  of  the  sun- 
god.  Yet  he  swears  by  the  cross.  The  statue  of  his 
wife  is  carved  by  “that  rare  Italian  master,  Julio  Ro- 
mano,” who  had  not  been  dead  twenty  years  when 
Shakspeare  was  born.  Even  Puritans  are  mentioned 
who  will  sing  nothing  but  psalms  to  hornpipes.  To 
suppose  that  the  poet  was  ignorant  of  this  confusion  of 
habits  and  persons  is  to  suppose  him  not  gifted  with 
ordinary  intelligence.  He  was  depicting  the  men  and 
women  of  all  ages.  The  peculiarities  of  particular  times 
and  places  were  therefore,  in  his  eyes,  utterly  unessen- 
tial. In  that  world  of  the  imagination  in  which  the 
scene  of  his  drama  is  laid  no  heed  is  paid  to  conflict  of 
customs  or  differences  of  belief.  There  can  be  no  incon- 
sistencies, for  men  act  according  to  nature,  not  accord- 
ing to  the  artificial  distinctions  of  particular  societies  or 
the  manners  of  particular  countries.  There  can  be  no 
real  anachronism ; for  the  world  depicted  is  one  that 
heeds  not  the  succession  of  events  in  mortal  history,  and 
everything  happens  in  the  eternal  now. 

It  may  be  maintained  that  it  is  not  fair  to  represent 
Shakspeare  as  having  followed  the  methods  he  did  in 
consequence  of  certain  well-defined  views  about  his  art. 
The  disregard  of  fact  he  displays,  it  will  be  said,  was  not 
due  to  his  belief  in  any  theory  he  held,  but  was  merely 
a result  of  the  carelessness  that  springs  from  hasty  com- 
III.— 25 


386  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

position  coupled  with  ignorance  of  a subject  or  hazy 
knowledge  of  it.  Let  us  take,  then,  a man  who  studied 
his  art  profoundly.  Milton  mingles  without  the  slight- 
est compunction  the  past  and  the  present,  mythological 
legend  and  Christian  belief,  classic  allusion  and  Hebrew 
story,  the  growth  of  regions  far  apart.  In  the  Christ- 
mas ode  he  follows  Spenser  in  giving  to  the  new-born 
Lord  the  title  of  Pan.  In  ‘Comus’  the  Severn  River 
rolls  down  beryl  and  golden  ore,  and  its  banks  are  to  be 
crowned  with  groves  of  myrrh  and  cinnamon.  In  the 
‘ Paradise  Lost  ’ the  army  of  the  devils  moves  to  warlike 
music  of  the  Dorian  order.  In  ‘Samson  Agonistes  ’ the 
hero  of  the  poem  refers  to  the  tale  of  Circe  and  the  Si- 
rens. The  fable  of  the  Phoenix  is  introduced.  The 
chorus  talks  of  Chalybean  tempered  steel.  There  is 
even  an  allusion  to  modern  artillery  in  the  passage  in 
which  Samson  speaks  of  himself  as  giving  up  his  fort  of 
silence  when  vanquished  by  a peal  of  words.  These 
“ outrages  of  local  or  chronological  propriety  ” mightily 
disturbed  the  soul  of  Dr.  Johnson,^  though  he  tells  us 
he  pointed  them  out  “ with  no  other  purpose  than  to 
promote  the  knowledge  of  true  criticism,”  the  question 
of  what  is  true  criticism  being  the  very  point  in  dispute. 

It  would  indeed  be  easy  enough  to  strengthen  Chau- 
cer’s position  still  further  by  the  example  of  almost  ev- 
ery great  poet  whose  references  to  events  we  are  able  to 
test  by  the  light  of  his  possible  knowledge.  Violations 
of  fact  are  accepted  not  only  without  protest,  but  with 
praise,  if  the  impression  which  is  sought  to  be  conveyed 
can  be  rendered  thereby  more  effective.  Nobody  thinks 


^Rambler,  No.  140. 


VALUE  OF  CONFORMITY  TO  FACT  387 

of  censuring  Gray  for  representing  Milton’s  loss  of  eye- 
sight as  the  result  of  writing  ‘ Paradise  Lost,’  though  we 
all  know  that  his  epic  was  not  even  begun  till  long  after 
he  had  become  blind.  But  it  is  of  little  moment  to  fur- 
nish additional  proofs  of  this  method  of  procedure.  It 
is  sufficient  for  us  to  find  Chaucer’s  practice  counte- 
nanced by  the  two  authorities  already  cited,  one  repre- 
senting the  highest  bounds  which  the  imagination  has 
reached,  the  other  combining  with  the  sublimest  poetic 
genius  the  amplest  and  widest  learning  of  his  age.  It  is 
presumption  or  incompetence  alone  that  can  fancy  that 
these  mighty  masters  did  not  know  what  they  were  do- 
ing, that  owing  to  more  imperfect  insight  into  the  prin- 
ciples of  their  art  they  failed  to  attain  that  chastened 
propriety  of  diction  which  inferior  men  set  up  as  the 
standard  of  correctness,  and  strive  painfully  to  attain  as 
a sort  of  compensation  for  their  lack  of  power. 

The  truth  is,  that  conformity  to  fact  is  a matter  of 
slight  importance  now  in  the  equipment  of  the  poet.  In 
the  time  of  Chaucer  it  was  of  no  importance  whatever. 
Art  has  sunk  to  a low  level  when  a vital  element  in  a 
work  of  the  imagination  is  the  exactness  of  knowledge 
displayed  in  it.  The  presence  of  accurate  statement  in 
such  a work  adds  little  to  its  value.  Its  absence  de- 
tracts from  it  only  in  the  eyes  of  those  whose  literary 
tastes  are  subordinate  to  the  results  of  antiquarian  re- 
search. Doubtless  there  may  be  an  unnecessary  shock- 
ing of  the  historic  sense  in  the  ideal  creations  which  the 
mind  calls  into  being.  Every  writer,  other  things  being 
equal,  is  bound  to  pay  some  deference  to  that  general 
knowledge  which  can  fairly  be  presumed  to  prevail  in 


388  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

his  own  generation,  or  which,  at  any  rate,  is  held  by  his 
generation  to  exist.  All  beyond  this  is  superfluity.  It 
is  worse  than  superfluity,  it  is  productive  of  positive 
harm,  if  regard  for  accuracy  of  detail  checks  or  in  any 
way  cumbers  the  flight  of  the  imagination.  Yet  this 
is  a danger  which  besets  more  and  more  the  writer 
as  the  circle  of  knowledge  expands  and  reaches  larger 
numbers.  He  comes  to  feel  that  due  praise  will  be  de- 
nied the  exhibition  of  his  proper  power  if  he  chance  to 
make  statements  that  are  not  historically,  geographical- 
ly, and  linguistically  correct.  As  cultivation  becomes 
more  widespread  and  information  more  precise,  there  is 
an  increase  in  the  tendency  to  put  archaeology  above 
art.  A prosaic  age  refuses  to  be  entertained  unless  the 
genius  of  the  poet  is  chained  to  the  car  of  historic  fact, 
which  about  half  the  time  is  afterwards  found  not  to  be 
fact.  It  begins  to  regard  the  accidental  as  of  more 
importance  than  the  essential.  It  condemns  what  is 
true  to  life  because  it  is  untrue  to  the  results  of  the  lat- 
est investigations,  or  is  out  of  keeping  not  with  the  way 
men  thought  or  felt,  but  with  the  way  they  dressed. 
This  method  of  criticism  comes  in  time  to  be  extended 
also  to  the  productions  of  the  past.  In  forming  a judg- 
ment of  its  work  the  point  of  view  of  the  artist  is  aban- 
doned for  that  of  the  antiquary.  This  substitution  of  a 
prosaic  statement  of  fact  for  spiritual  insight  is  then  de- 
clared the  only  way  to  give  us  a true  picture  of  life.  It 
is  the  more  objectionable  because  while  the  pedantry  of 
the  proceeding  is  very  real,  the  accuracy  turns  out  fre- 
quently to  be  more  or  less  of  a sham. 

Exactness  in  the  statement  of  fact  most  certainly  has 


VALUE  OF  CONFORMITY  TO  FACT  389 

its  uses.  There  is  a field  in  which  its  observance  is  of 
supremest  importance.  But  it  works  harm  usually  in 
proportion  to  its  success  when  it  sets  out  to  encroach 
upon  the  realm  of  the  imagination.  Yet  its  presence 
there,  where  it  does  not  belong,  is  often  insisted  upon 
with  a strenuousness  which  is  not  manifested  about  it 
when  it  appears  in  its  legitimate  province.  We  virtu- 
ally consent  that  the  facts  of  history  shall  be  disguised 
or  wrested  from  their  true  meaning  to  serve  the  cause 
of  the  controversialist ; but  we  protest  against  any  dis- 
regard or  alteration  of  them  to  suit  the  purposes  of  the 
poet.  Yet  any  attempt  to  make  them,  not  the  supreme, 
but  even  a principal  object  of  consideration,  defeats 
the  end  which  the  latter  writer  has  in  view.  It  is  just 
the  same  in  the  historical  novel.  If  the  novel  is  written 
for  the  sake  of  the  history,  the  history  may  be  good, 
but  the  novel  is  pretty  certain  to  be  poor.  Herein  lay 
the  supremacy  of  Scott.  He  did  not  painfully  study 
up  his  subjects,  or  make  it  his  main  object  to  guard 
against  errors  of  detail.  He  wrote  from  a memory 
stored  with  legends  and  traditions  of  the  past.  If  the 
general  spirit  of  the  time,  as  he  saw  it,  was  preserved, 
he  cared  little  for  exactness  on  minute  points.  Some- 
times he  consciously  violated  accuracy,  sometimes  he 
violated  it  unconsciously.  In  either  case  the  novel  is 
generally  better  for  his  ignorance  or  indifference.  In 
^ Quentin  Durward  ’ he  made  the  people  of  Liege  speak 
a language  they  never  spoke,  and  rebel  and  murder 
their  bishop  fifteen  years  before  the  event  actually  took 
place.  The  one  variation  from  the  truth  was  probably 
due  to  ignorance ; the  other  was  made  intentionally,  as 


390 


CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 


he  informs  us  in  a note.  However  fact  may  have  suf- 
fered in  either  case,  literature  was  the  gainer  of  a power- 
ful scene.  In  drawing  it  he  was  indeed  true  to  art  in 
its  highest  aspect,  for  it  was  a scene  in  which  men  were 
represented  as  talking  and  acting  as  under  the  circum- 
stances they  would  have  talked  and  acted. 

It  is  precisely  the  same  in  Chaucer’s  creations.  In 
the  most  impossible  of  them  in  one  sense,  he  is  in 
another  true  to  the  highest  art.  If  a real  knight  had 
existed  and  had  really  told  the  tale  that  is  put  in  his 
mouth,  he  would  have  brought  in  the  same  particulars 
that  the  poet  introduced ; he  would  have  committed 
the  same  anachronisms ; he  would  have  made  the  same 
blunders,  if  we  choose  to  call  them  blunders.  Such 
they  were  not,  however.  The  world  in  which  Chaucer’s 
characters  move  is  subject  to  no  limitations  of  century 
or  country.  In  it  no  confusion  of  time  and  place  can 
possibly  exist.  The  poet  appears  in  it  as  the  master 
of  human  nature,  and  not  as  the  slave  of  its  tempo- 
rary phases.  Realism  he  sought,  and  realism  he  pro- 
duced. But  it  was  no  mere  realism  of  costume  or  of 
petty  detail.  It  was  the  life-like  representation  of  the 
feelings  that  sway  men,  the  hopes  that  exalt,  and  the 
fears  that  depress  them.  It  is  because  he  depicted  the 
permanent  and  not  the  changing  that  the  fame  of 
Chaucer  has  triumphed  over  the  changes  that  have  over- 
taken the  language.  We  care  not  for  the  land  to  which 
his  characters  belong,  or  whether  the  clothes  they  wear 
are  in  accordance  with  its  fashions.  They  are  citizens 
of  a larger  country  than  can  be  found  described  in  any 
school-book.  We  recognize  them  as  men  and  women 


HIS  ORIGINALITY 


391 


whom  we  have  always  known,  though  no  geographer 
may  be  able  to  point  out  the  precise  region  in  which 
they  had  their  birth  or  have  their  home. 

If  Chaucer  has  been  improperly  censured  on  the  score 
of  propriety,  he  has  been  subjected  to  still  more  con- 
stant comment  on  the  score  of  originality.  This  is  a 
point  that  has  been  brought  into  prominence  by  the 
attention  given  to  the  sources  from  which  he  drew,  or 
is  supposed  to  have  drawn,  his  material.  It  has  at  times 
seriously  affected  the  view  that  has  been  taken  of  his 
literary  position.  The  question  of  origins  is  one  of 
those  that  are  sure  to  come  to  the  front  in  the  case  of 
any  author  about  the  production  of  whose  works  little 
can  be  ascertained  with  exactness.  It  involves,  besides, 
a kind  of  investigation  which  is  of  absorbing  interest  to 
a certain  class  of  minds.  There  seem  to  be  those  who 
think  less  of  what  a man  has  written  than  of  what 
induced  him  to  write  it.  There  are  certainly  those  who 
are  less  interested  in  ascertaining  his  ideas  than  in 
ascertaining  the  places,  real  or  imaginary,  from  which  he 
is  supposed  to  have  derived  his  ideas.  This  question  is 
with  them  the  one  upon  which  their  thoughts  are  mainly 
fixed.  To  the  settlement  of  it  their  attention  is  almost 
exclusively  directed.  We  need  not  refuse  the  praise  to 
which  labors  of  this  kind  are  entitled.  The  inquiry  into 
the  sources  from  which  a great  writer  gathers  his  mate- 
rials is  a work  of  sufficient  value  to  be  worth  doing. 
Still,  its  value  can  be  easily  overestimated,  and,  in  fact, 
is  usually  overestimated.  In  the  case  of  an  author 
about  whom  little  is  known,  it  is  a matter  apt  to  assume 
not  only  a disproportionate  importance  compared  with 


392 


CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 


other  matters,  but  an  undue  importance  in  itself.  One 
singular  result,  moreover,  comes  in  time  to  follow  from 
this  sort  of  inquiry,  if  once  vigorously  pursued.  The 
tendency  is  early  displayed  to  refuse  the  writer  credit 
for  having  upon  his  own  motion  hit  upon  anything 
which  patient  research  has  succeeded  in  finding  some- 
where else.  It  is  fairly  certain  to  end  at  last  in  practi- 
cally denying  his  capacity  to  originate  anything  what- 
ever. If  he  has  borrowed  a number  of  his  stories  from 
ascertainable  sources,  it  becomes  the  accepted  creed  that 
he  has  borrowed  them  all.  If  the  original  of  any  par- 
ticular piece  cannot  be  found  anywhere  by  a series  of 
most  exhaustive  studies  in  ancient  lore  or  mediaeval  le- 
gend, in  Western  fable  or  Oriental  apologue,  the  last 
thing  that  usually  occurs  to  the  investigator  is  to  attrib- 
ute the  possibility  of  the  invention  to  the  author  himself. 

In  the  matter  of  originality  it  must  be  confessed  that 
Chaucer  has  had  hard  measure  dealt  him  from  the  very 
outset.  A mass  of  unsupported  assertion  has  in  this 
respect  gathered  about  his  name  which  has  steadily 
grown  in  volume  with  the  progress  of  time.  He  is  con- 
stantly spoken  of  as  if  he  had  been  guilty  of  theft  from 
previous  writers,  in  a way  and  to  an  extent  that  are  un- 
paralleled in  the  case  of  any  other  author.  It  is  no  mere 
petty  larceny  with  which  he  is  charged  ; it  is  highway 
robbery  on  the  grandest  of  scales.  His  own  country- 
men have  united  with  foreigners  in  making  and  en- 
forcing this  accusation.  That  he  invented  nothing  is 
assumed  by  all ; that  he  stole  everything  is  asserted  by 
some.  Even  if  any  one  set  out  to  show  that  the  belief 
in  his  supposed  obligations  to  a particular  author  or  a 


OBLIGATIONS  TO  OTHER  WRITERS  393 

particular  work  had  really  no  foundation  in  fact,  it  was 
not  done  for  the  sake  of  clearing  the  poet  from  a base- 
less charge,  but  for  the  purpose  of  exalting  some  dis- 
covery of  his  own.  Through  his  learning  and  sagacity 
he  had  been  enabled  to  show  that  the  opinion  previously 
received  was  an  error,  and  that  it  was  from  new  and  un- 
looked-for quarters  that  Chaucer  had  drawn  the  materials 
of  which  he  made  use. 

This  theoretical  lack  of  originality,  with  the  excess  of 
literary  larceny  implied  by  it,  has  not  always  been  im- 
puted to  the  poet  as  a reproach.  On  the  contrary,  it 
has  been  much  oftener  spoken  of  as  something  to  his 
credit.  The  robbery  of  inferior  writers  has  been  repre- 
sented as  a privilege  which  he  shares  with  every  man 
of  genius,  who  by  the  mere  fact  of  possessing  genius 
has  a sort  of  divine  right  to  convey  to  his  own  behoof 
the  labors  of  other  men.  Such  a one  is  a heaven- 
anointed  king,  who  lays  hand  on  whatever  comes  in  his 
way  that  suits  his  purpose,  but  makes  what  he  seizes 
his  own  by  the  magnificent  manner  in  which  he  resets 
and  enriches  what  he  has  taken.  Other  authors  occupy 
the  position  of  feudal  tributaries  to  this  supreme  lord, 
who  can  use  their  services  to  far  better  advantage  than 
they  can  themselves.  Chaucer  has  received  the  full 
benefit  of  this  view,  if  it  be  a benefit.  In  his  behalf 
plagiarism  has  been  exalted  into  the  highest  of  virtues. 
There  has  scarcely  been  any  limit  to  the  declarations  of 
men  who  seem  to  think  that  they  are  doing  honor  to  the 
poet  by  exaggerating  his  obligations  to  others.  They 
are  eager  to  assert  or  imply  that  the  more  he  stole,  the 
greater  was  his  merit.  After  his  chariot-wheels,  if  we 


394  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

can  trust  their  phrases,  follows  a band  of  captive  authors 
whose  spoils  lend  glory  to  the  conqueror  whose  train 
they  swell  and  whose  triumph  they  adorn. 

There  is  no  over-statement  in  this  language.  Great 
men  and  little  men,  writers  of  big  books  and  of  little 
essays,  have  agreed  in  denying  to  the  poet  any  genuine 
originality,  or  in  exalting  his  literary  merit  at  the  ex- 
pense of  his  literary  honesty.  Space  is  not  sufficient  to 
record  all  the  doubtful  tributes  of  these  two  sorts  which 
have  been  paid  to  his  memory.  Mr.  Wright,  who  dis- 
covered that  Tyrwhitt  was  an  incompetent  editor,  made 
the  further  discovery  that  Chaucer  himself  was  nothing 
more  than  the  ‘‘great  translator”  which  he  is  styled  by 
his  contemporary,  Eustache  Deschamps.  “ It  is  singu- 
lar,” he  says,  “ that  a poet  of  so  much  talent  as  Chaucer 
should  have  written  scarcely  a single  original  piece.”  ‘ 
This  is  a purely  original  discovery  of  that  editor.  No 
one  has  ever  sought  to  rob  him  of  the  credit  of  it ; no 
one,  so  far  as  I am  aware,  has  repeated  his  sweeping 
assertion.  Still,  the  most  glowing  panegyric  upon 
Chaucer  as  a plagiarist  is  due  to  Emerson.  In  a highly 
laudatory  passage,  in  which  nearly  every  phrase  contains 
a misstatement  of  fact  or  involves  a misapprehension  of 
meaning,  he  exalted  the  poet’s  glory  by  describing  him 
as  plundering,  by  the  privilege  belonging  to  genius,  both 
predecessors  and  contemporaries.  He  did  not  even  stop 
at  this  point.  He  made  him  anticipate  the  future  by 
using  the  materials  which  men  who  lived  after  him  were 
to  amass.  “ Chaucer,”  he  wrote,  “ it  seems,  drew  con- 
tinually through  Lydgate  and  Caxton  from  Guido  di 


* Anecdota  Literaria,  p.  13. 


OBLIGATIONS  TO  OTHER  WRITERS  395 

Colonna.”^  Lydgate  was  but  little  more  than  a boy 
when  Chaucer  was  writing,  and  Caxton  was  not  born 
till  some  twenty  years  after  Chaucer  was  dead. 

There  is,  indeed,  a virtue  more  than  Spartan  imputed 
by  this  theory  to  the  perpetrator  of  literary  larceny.  The 
culprit  is  not  only  to  be  proud  of  the  theft ; he  is  not  even 
to  be  ashamed  of  the  detection.  It  does  not  appear  rea- 
sonable that  in  this  matter  one  law  should  exist  for  the 
poetaster  and  another  for  the  poet.  The  view  which  holds 
that  the  former  is  created  merely  or  mainly  for  the  intel- 
lectual nutriment  of  the  latter  is  due,  it  seems  to  me, 
either  to  ignorance  of  the  facts,  as  in  the  instance  just 
cited,  or  more  frequently  to  a misconception  of  what  real- 
ly constitutes  originality.  Stated  as  it  has  usually  been, 
this  theory  has  certainly  done  the  grossest  injustice  to 
Chaucer’s  reputation.  He  has  been  tried  by  a standard 
that  has  rarely  been  applied  to  any  other  dead  writer.  It 
is  never  applied  to  a living  one.  In  the  estimate  we  make 
of  a modern  author,  the  question  of  origins  meets  Avith 
the  proper  appreciation,  or  rather  with  the  proper  lack 
of  appreciation,  which  it  deserves.  It  is  curiosity  alone 
that  leads  us  to  ask,  in  the  case  of  a contemporary, 
whence  he  has  derived  his  plot.  By  most  of  us  it  is  a 
point  rarely  brought  up  at  all,  still  less  is  it  largely  con- 
sidered. It  is  instinctively  felt  to  be  in  ordinary  cases  a 
matter  outside  of  the  legitimate  interest  which  belongs 
to  the  production  looked  upon  as  a work  of  art ; and 
that  is  the  only  view  of  which  the  reader  or  critic  is 
bound  to  take  cognizance.  If  an  author  of  established 
reputation  tells  us,  as  he  sometimes  does,  what  are  the 

^ Emerson’s  Representative  A/en  : ‘ Shakespeare  ; or,  The  Poet.' 


396  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

sources  from  which  he  has  drawn  his  materials,  we  are 
contented  with  his  statement  of  the  fact.  It  never  en- 
ters our  minds  that  his  reputation  for  originality  has  suf- 
fered because  he  has  derived  a hint  from  this  quarter,  a 
suggestion  from  that,  or  an  incident  from  a third.  Even 
those  of  us  who  are  interested  in  the  problem  of  literary 
origins,  to  which  most  men  are  absolutely  indifferent,  do 
not  usually  make  it  unduly  prominent.  We  do  not  re- 
gard similarity  of  events  or  resemblances  of  thought  or 
expression  as  necessarily  proofs  of  indebtedness.  Nor 
do  we  seek  on  account  of  them  to  detract  from  an  au- 
thor’s well-earned  fame.  On  the  other  hand,  if  a case  of 
manifest  plagiarism  should  be  proved  against  a popular 
writer,  even  his  warmest  admirers  would  not  regard  the 
fact  as  redounding  particularly  to  his  credit,  nor  would 
they  go  about  making  the  claim  that  on  account  of  his 
possession  of  genius  there  had  been  accorded  to  him  a 
divine  right  to  steal. 

The  slight  weight  we  ordinarily  attach  to  the  consid- 
eration of  the  sources  from  which  the  modern  author 
has  derived  his  material  is  in  large  part  due  to  the  full 
information  we  possess  in  regard  to  other  matters,  more 
interesting  and  more  important,  connected  with  him  and 
his  writings.  The  question  of  his  originals,  or  if  he  had 
any  originals  at  all,  falls  therefore  into  the  background. 
Unfortunately  this  more  valuable  knowledge  is  not  at- 
tainable in  Chaucer’s  case.  A perverse  industry,  con- 
sequently, having  little  else  to  exercise  itself  upon,  has 
devoted  itself  to  the  task  of  finding  anywhere  save  in 
himself  the  sources  of  his  inspiration.  The  results  ob- 
tained, if  they  could  be  trusted,  would  deprive  him  of 


OBLIGATIONS  TO  OTHER  WRITERS  397 

any  pretence  to  inspiration  whatever.  There  is  a wea- 
risome monotony  in  the  line  of  reasoning  followed  as 
well  as  in  the  conclusions  reached.  If  the  story  Chau- 
cer tells  us  resembles  in  the  slightest  an  earlier  story, 
he  must  have  adapted  from  it  his  own.  The  situation 
was  no  better  for  him  if  the  same  plot  had  been  used 
by  a contemporary.  He  was  the  one  that  did  the  bor- 
rowing, not  his  inferior.  There  is  scarcely  any  likeness 
so  remote,  any  allusion  so  vague,  any  incident  so  trivial, 
that  it  has  not  been  seized  upon  as  evidence  of  his  obli- 
gation to  some  other  author,  frequently  one  not  read  at 
all  now,  or  if  read  once,  never  read  a second  time.  If 
in  his  version  variations  occur  from  the  received  form  of 
a tale,  we  are  perpetually  told  that  they  must  be  due 
to  some  original  now  lost.  Even  when  nothing  can  be 
found  resembling  in  the  least  what  he  has  written,  any 
supposition  is  resorted  to,  no  matter  how  unauthorized 
and  unreasonable,  in  preference  to  putting  upon  the 
poet  the  responsibility  for  the  slightest  invention  or 
even  the  slightest  alteration.  No  original,  for  instance, 
has  ever  been  discovered  of  the  ‘ House  of  Fame.’  It 
has  not  been  discovered  probably  for  the  very  good  rea- 
son that  no  original  was  ever  in  existence  outside  of 
Chaucer’s  own  mind.  But  in  this  production  the  Oise, 
a river  of  Northern  France,  is  specifically  mentioned, 
and  a reference  is  made  to  the  distance  between  it  and 
Rome.  An  English  author  would  not  have  been  likely 
to  make  use  of  an  illustration  so  unfamiliar;  so,  at 
least,  says  Warton.^  For  this  reason  he  regards  the 
work,  singularly  enough,  as  a translation  not  from  the 

* History  of  English  Poetry,  vol.  ii. , p.  165  (ed.  of  1840). 


398  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

language  of  Northern  France,  but  from  that  of  South- 
ern France;  though  he  brings  forward  as  an  additional 
argument  for  its  having  been  derived  from  the  latter 
quarter  that  there  is  a reference  contained  in  the  poem 
to  the  martial  musicians  of  Catalonia  and  Aragon.  It 
is  almost  certain  that  Chaucer  never  had  read  or  could 
read  anything  written  in  the  Provengal  tongue.  How- 
ever that  may  be,  Warton  might  as  well  have  insisted 
on  similar  grounds  that  the  ‘ Death  of  Blanche  ’ was  a 
translation  from  the  Arabic,  because  the  author  declares 
that  he  would  not  have  missed  the  hearing  of  certain 
music  for  the  possession  of  the  town  of  Tunis. 

This  sort  of  learned  conjecture,  petty  in  its  spirit 
and  inconclusive  in  its  results,  degrades  the  writer  of 
it.  There  may  be  no  great  harm  in  this;  but  it  has 
likewise  the  tendency  to  degrade  him  to  whose  writ- 
ings it  is  applied.  It  tends  to  reduce  the  fame  of  the 
poet  in  the  minds  of  many  to  the  level  of  that  of  his 
commentators.  It  is  exasperating  to  every  man  who 
feels  that  there  is  a respect  due  to  genius  itself ; that 
its  title  to  supremacy  is  not  the  gift  of  critics,  but  of 
Heaven;  and  that  he  who  stands  in  the  presence  of  the 
immortals  should  do  so  with  head  uncovered  and  with 
reverent  heart.  It  is  made  more  exasperating  when  we 
come  to  see  that  the  theory  it  is  used  to  bolster  is  false. 
It  is  not  merely  false  because  the  facts  upon  which  it 
is  founded  are  false ; it  would  be  none  the  less  false 
if  the  facts  were  true.  It  is  false  because  it  rests  upon 
that  mistaken  conception  of  what  constitutes  originali- 
ty, of  which,  as  we  have  seen,  we  take  no  account  in 
the  case  of  the  modern  author.  It  is  no  difficult  mat- 


MISTAKEN  CONCEPTIONS  OF  ORIGINALITY  399 

ter  to  show  that  it  must  be  a misconception.  Take, 
in  the  first  place,  the  stories  which  exclude  both  the  su- 
pernatural and  the  preternatural,  which  deal  entirely 
with  the  incidents  of  every-day  life  under  all  its  varying 
conditions.  To  this  class  belongs  much  the  larger  num- 
ber of  fictitious  narratives,  whether  told  in  poetry  or 
prose.  In  them  originality,  in  the  sense  of  pure  inven- 
tion, is  not  needed.  Nay,  more, — it  would  rarely  be 
justified.  For  if  originality  is  to  lie  in  constructing  the 
skeleton  of  the  story,  in  the  creation  of  events  and  the 
shaping  of  their  development,  or  what  is  technically 
called  the  plot,  there  is  hardly  any  such  thing  as  origi- 
nality possible,  or  at  any  rate  permissible.  The  term 
we  can  only  apply  to  something  that  has  not  come  to 
somebody’s  observation  or  experience.  For  in  the  fic- 
tion that  deals  with  real  life  there  is  scarcely  anything 
credible  that  can  be  invented  that  has  not  somewhere, 
at  some  time,  actually  taken  place,  though  not  necessa- 
rily in  the  particular  order  of  occurrence  related.  All 
things  have  happened  ; there  are  few  things  comparative- 
ly that  have  been  recorded.  This  in  its  very  nature  is 
a limitation  upon  the  capacity  of  pure  invention.  But 
there  is  a greater  restriction  still.  We  insist,  and  insist 
properly,  that  fiction  of  the  kind  of  which  we  speak 
shall  keep  close  to  the  facts  of  life,  even  to  its  most 
common  facts.  It  may  idealize  them,  it  may  exalt 
them,  it  may  throw  about  them  all  that  enchantment 
which  gives  them  the  power  to  charm  or  the  influence 
to  inspire.  But  it  must  not  leave  them.  The  farther 
it  wanders  from  the  probable,  the  more  it  is  felt  under 
ordinary  conditions  to  be  lacking  in  the  highest  art,  the 


400 


CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 


more  it  requires  the  loftiest  genius  to  overcome  the  re- 
pugnance of  the  mind  even  to  accept  as  genuine  a 
portrayal  of  scenes  which  may  have  occurred  and  yet 
are  outside  the  round  of  average  human  experience. 
It  is  the  most  ancient  of  commonplaces  that  truth 
is  stranger  than  fiction.  It  must  be  stranger.  Fiction 
cannot  afford  to  deal  with  what  would  contradict  our 
usual  experience.  This  it  is  that  renders  us  indis- 
posed to  give  credit,  either  in  the  sense  of  belief  or 
praise,  to  the  originality,  if  it  can  be  called  originality, 
which  creates  what  has  no  plausible  reason  for  its  ex- 
istence ; which  narrates  what  is  not  likely  to  happen  ; 
which  represents  men  as  acting  from  unnatural  mo- 
tives, and  places  them  in  grossly  improbable  situa- 
tions. In  no  sense  is  this  feeling  a limitation  upon 
genius,  though  it  may  be  upon  talent ; for  the  great- 
ness of  the  former,  like  that  of  nature,  consists  in  the 
infinite  ability  it  possesses  to  originate  new  effects  by 
new  combinations  of  old  material. 

There  is  doubtless  a wider  opportunity  for  originality 
in  the  sense  of  invention  in  stories  wherein  the  super- 
natural or  the  preternatural  plays  a part.  Art  which 
rejects  the  improbable  accepts  willingly  the  impossible. 
The  imagination  working  without  the  limitations  of 
time  or  space,  or  without  the  necessity  of  regarding  re- 
ality, has  necessarily  open  before  it  a fuller  sphere  of 
creative  activity.  Yet  even  here  its  range  is  restricted; 
and  that,  too,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  it  is  aided  by 
that  belief  in  the  ever-active  agency  of  the  supernat- 
ural, which,  however  stifled  by  education,  lurks  unex- 
tinguishable  in  the  depths  of  the  heart.  Still,  the  mar- 


MISTAKEN  CONCEPTIONS  OF  ORIGINALITY  40I 

vellous  must  depend  for  its  success  not  upon  its  mar- 
vellousness, but  upon  its  capacity  of  heightening  by 
contrast  the  play  of  human  forces  and  the  exhibition 
of  human  passions.  It  is  the  catastrophe  awaiting  the 
mortal  actors  that  absorbs  the  interest.  The  interfer- 
ence of  the  supernatural,  the  activity  of  the  preternat- 
ural, must  display  themselves,  consequently,  within  well- 
defined  limits.  They  must  set  off  the  natural.  They 
must  not  so  attract  the  attention  to  their  own  mani- 
festations as  to  render  of  subsidiary  consequence  the 
effects  produced  by  their  manifestations.  But  these  ef- 
fects are  wrought  upon  human  actors  only.  The  con- 
duct of  these  must  therefore  conform  to  what  under 
the  circumstances  reason  convinces  us  it  would  be  the 
natural  course  for  them  to  adopt.  Here  as  before  the 
invention  of  the  author  is  restrained  to  the  limits  of  the 
probable.  If  he  overpasses  them,  he  does  so  at  the  risk 
of  repelling  his  reader  and  of  sacrificing  his  art. 

If  the  position  taken  be  a true  one,  it  is  a necessary 
inference  that  it  is  not  the  invention  of  the  story  that 
is  a test  of  the  highest  originality,  but  the  treatment  of 
it.  Observation  would  as  certainly  lead  to  the  same 
conclusion.  Shakspeare,  for  instance,  like  nearly  all 
the  great  dramatists,  borrowed  his  plots.  In  places  he 
follows  his  authority  word  for  word.  He  takes  the  inci- 
dents of  his  story  from  the  writer  of  some  book.  He 
might  have  taken  all  that  he  tells  us  from  some  events 
which  he  had  heard  of  as  happening  in  the  adjoining 
street.  What  he  did  not  borrow,  what  his  author  could 
not  lend,  was  that  originality  of  treatment  which  renders 
his  productions  something  which  it  is  not  merely  hope- 
IIL— 26 


402  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

less  to  excel,  but  even  impossible  to  imitate.  Yet  his  dis- 
tinction in  this  respect,  though  eminent,  is  not  peculiar. 
The  great  poet  or  the  great  novelist,  so  far  from  seeking 
the  unknown  or  the  unexpected,  takes  usually  for  his 
subject  some  historic  occurrence  in  which  the  course  of 
events  is  plainly  marked  out,  or  some  generally  accred- 
ited legend,  or  some  story  of  every-day  life  in  which  the 
facts  are  well  and  widely  known.  It  is  not  the  finding 
of  his  matter  that  constitutes  his  originality  ; it  is  the 
use  he  makes  of  it  after  it  has  been  found.  The  mate- 
rials to  Avhich  he  resorts  are  accessible  to  everybody. 
They  lie  before  everybody’s  eyes.  He  alone  has  the 
genius  to  shape  them  into  creations  of  beauty  and 
power.  That  he  himself  should  furnish  his  own  mate- 
rials as  well  as  fashion  them  is  no  more  necessary  than 
that  the  sculptor  should  be  under  the  necessity  of  per- 
sonally digging  the  marble  out  of  which  he  carves  his 
statue. 

■One  cannot  but  feel  that  these  things  partake  of  the 
nature  of  commonplaces.  They  are  commonplaces,  or, 
if  not,  they  ought  to  be.  Yet  they  need  constant  repe- 
tition, because  the  opposite  view  is  persistently  held  up 
as  a defence  for  what  is  both  untrue  in  criticism  and  un- 
true in  art.  Invention  may  coexist  with  the  highest 
order  of  genius,  or  it  may  not.  As  a matter  of  fact,  it 
usually  does  not.  Yet  in  every  age  a tribute  has  been 
paid  to  it,  sometimes  by  genius  itself,  as  if  it  embodied 
the  highest  form  of  excellence,  as  if  without  it  there 
could  be  no  real  originality.  Literary  history  is  crowd- 
ed with  mournful  complaints,  which  are  limited  to  no 
particular  period,  that  the  plots  have  all  been  invent- 


MISTAKEN  CONCEPTIONS  OF  ORIGINALITY  403 

ed,  the  situations  have  all  been  exhausted,  the  stories 
have  all  been  told.  Everything  has  been  anticipated. 
Nothing  is  left  the  writer  of  to-day  but  to  go  over  again 
the  drudgery  of  threshing  out  corn  or  chaff  that  has 
been  threshed  a thousand  times  before.  In  this  respect 
everybody  has  always  in  his  own  opinion  been  born  too 
late,  and  always  will  be  born  too  late.  Chaucer  deplored 
it  as  much  as  the  latest  modern  who  has  tasked  his  brain 
to  set  forth  some  incident  absolutely  new.  The  men  be- 
fore him,  he  said,  had  reaped  all  the  grain  of  poetry,  and 
he  came  after,  glad  if  he  could  be  so  fortunate  as  here 
and  there  to  glean  a scattered  ear.^ 

A similar  view  was  almost  formally  adopted  as  the 
recognized  literary  creed  in  the  days  of  Queen  Anne 
and  of  her  immediate  successors.  A certain  amount  of 
originality  had  been  bestowed  in  the  first  place  upon  the 
world,  and  the  earlier  writers,  by  the  mere  accident  of 
being  earlier,  had  succeeded  in  securing  possession  of 
most  of  it.  Everything  had  been  said  that  could  be 
said  ; the  only  thing  that  was  left  to  do  was  to  say  it 
over  again  in  a perfectly  polished  way.  So  likewise, 
almost  at  the  beginning  of  his  career  as  a novelist,  in  the 
midst  of  the  production  of  his  most  marvellous  crea- 
tions, Scott  took  occasion  to  put  on  record  a complaint 
of  the  impossibility  of  devising  anything  the  interest  of 
which  had  not  already  been  exhausted  by  frequency  of 
repetition  and  the  consequent  certainty  of  anticipation  of 
what  must  be  the  inevitable  catastrophe.  “ The  inventor 
of  fictitious  narratives,”  he  wrote,  “ has  to  rack  his  brains 
for  means  to  diversify  his  tale,  and,  after  all,  can  hardly 


^ Legend  of  Good  Women,  lines  69-83. 


404  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

hit  upon  characters  or  incidents  which  have  not  been 
used  again  and  again,  until  they  are  familiar  to  the  eye 
of  the  reader,  so  that  the  development,  enlevement,  the 
desperate  wound  of  which  the  hero  never  dies,  the  burn- 
ing fever  from  which  the  heroine  is  sure  to  recover,  be- 
comes a mere  matter  of  course.”  No  doubt  the  first 
man  that  wrote  was  equally  impressed  by  the  perpetual 
commonplaceness  of  life  and  character.  He  was  puz- 
zled by  the  same  poverty  of  striking  incident,  and 
wearied  his  head  and  worried  his  spirits  to  find  a com- 
bination of  events  so  new  and  a conclusion  so  unexpect- 
ed that  they  would  strike  the  reader  with  surprise,  and 
yet  so  reasonable  that  they  would  not  revolt  him  by 
their  apparent  improbability  or  absurdity.  We  have 
still  a great  deal  to  learn  from  Solomon  when  we  can 
seriously  suppose  that  anything  has  been  done  for  the 
first  time,  or  even  told. 

It  would  not,  therefore,  be  a matter  of  material  con- 
sequence if  the  imputations  of  borrowing  that  have  been 
brought  against  Chaucer  were  true  to  the  minutest  par- 
ticulars. They  would  not  interfere  with  his  claims  to 
originality,  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  word,  any  more 
than  similar  ones  would  with  those  of  Shakspeare.  Still, 
so  much  stress  has  been  laid  upon  the  point  in  his  case, 
so  hard  has  been  the  measure  meted  out  to  him,  that 
the  subject  cannot  be  passed  by  without  receiving  an  at- 
tention to  which  it  is  not  entitled  on  its  merits.  One 
thing  will  come  out  clearly  as  the  result  of  a careful  ex- 
amination. Futile  as  the  accusations  would  be  if  they 
were  true,  their  futility  is  made  particularly  conspicuous 
by  the  fact  of  their  not  being  true.  He  was  unquestion- 


MISTAKEN  CONCEPTIONS  OF  ORIGINALITY  405 


ably  under  great  obligations  to  others.  He  was,  how- 
ever, under  no  such  obligations  as  have  been  constantly 
assumed,  so  far  at  least  as  any  evidence  has  yet  been 
furnished.  There  would  have  been  no  need  of  discuss- 
ing the  question  at  all  if  men  had  been  content  to  rep- 
resent him  as  imitating  the  writers  whom  he  himself 
professed  to  imitate  and  of  using  the  material  which  he 
tells  us  they  had  furnished.  But  this  is  far  from  being 
the  case.  He  has  been  charged  with  copying  authors 
like  Lucretius,  whom  he  pretty  certainly  never  read  ; 
with  others  like  Plato,  whom  he  could  not  have  read ; 
with  others  like  Lollius  of  Urbino,^  who  never  left  any- 
thing to  be  read  that  reached  Chaucer’s  time.  In  that 
sort  of  originality,  indeed,  which  consists  in  discovering 
what  never  had  any  existence,  the  poet  has  been  im- 
measurably surpassed  by  his  critics  and  commentators. 
One  or  two  instances  of  this  have  already  been  given. 
To  record  them  all  would  be  a waste  of  space  ; only  a 
sufficient  number  of  further  illustrations  will  be  fur- 
nished to  make  good  all  the  assertions  on  this  matter 
that  have  been  made. 

It  is  hard  enough  to  be  stigmatized  as  a borrower  be- 
cause one  happens  to  say  something  that  somebody  else 
has  said  before.  That,  however,  is  the  common  lot  of 
all  great  writers.  It  was  the  peculiar  fortune  of  Chaucer 
to  have  been  long  spoken  of  by  a succession  of  scholars 
as  having  borrowed  from  authors  who  were  not  even 
born  when  he  died,  or  in  some  cases  were  in  their  cra- 


^ It  ought  to  have  been  said  pre-  ing  the  Urbicus  of  Lollius  Urbicus 
viously  that  Speght  appears  to  be  the  as  having  the  meaning  “of  Urbi- 
one  who  is  responsible  for  represent-  no.” 


4o6  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

dies  when  he  was  nearing  his  grave.  It  has  already 
been  mentioned  that  Leland  represented  Alain  Chartier, 
who  flourished  in  the  fifteenth  century,  as  one  of  the 
models  upon  which  the  fourteenth-century  English  poet 
formed  himself.  The  statement  was  repeated  without 
hesitation  by  succeeding  writers,  and  finds  itself  duly  re- 
corded by  Warton  as  an  undoubted  fact.*  Even  this 
chronological  achievement  was  surpassed  by  others  of 
the  early  biographers  of  the  poet.  Among  the  few  ad- 
ditions that  Bale  made  to  Leland’s  account  of  Chaucer 
was  the  assertion  that  the  Spanish  writer  Mena  was 
one  of  the  literary  and  linguistic  pioneers  whose  efforts 
had  added  a spur  to  the  ambition  of  the  English  author. 
Herein  Bale  showed  himself  to  have  caught  the  spirit 
that  animated  his  original ; perhaps  he  may  fairly  be 
said  to  have  improved  upon  it.  For  Alain  Chartier  was 
really  born  some  dozen  years  before  Chaucer  died, 
whereas  Mena  was  not  born  till  some  dozen  years  after.^ 
Both  of  these  writers  flourished  for  centuries  as  two  of  the 
chief  authorities  whom  the  man  who  lived  before  them  imi- 
tated. Even  at  the  present  time  they  have  occasionally 
been  known  to  put  in  an  appearance  in  that  capacity. 

The  modern  commenters  upon  Chaucer’s  originality 
have  talked  more  learnedly  but  not  a whit  more  wisely 
than  the  ancient.  They  have  usually  taken  care  to  be 
right  about  their  dates ; it  is  in  their  deductions  that 
they  are  wrong.  The  latter  class  erred  from  inability  to 
hide  their  ignorance ; the  former  from  desire  to  exhibit 

^ History  of  English  Poetry y vol.  Chaucer’s  indebtedness  to  Mena 
ii.,  p.  128  (ed.  of  1840).  from  Leland;  but  in  Leland’s  ac- 

^ It  ought  to  be  said  that  Bale  count  of  Chaucer,  as  printed,  Mena’s 
professes  to  take  the  statement  of  name  is  not  mentioned. 


SANDRAS  ON  CHAUCER’S  ORIGINALITY 


40; 

their  knowledge.  The  observations  of  two  of  them  only 
call  for  extended  examination.  These  two  are  selected 
partly  because  their  remarks  represent  fairly  the  general 
character  of  the  criticism  made;  partly  because  they 
have  themselves  studied  the  poet’s  writings  and  are  not 
merely  repeating  words  about  him  borrowed  from  oth- 
ers ; partly  because  they  give  specific  illustrations  which 
can  be  tested  instead  of  the  usual  general  imputations 
that  defy  investigation  through  their  vagueness ; and 
partly  because  their  assertions  have  had  an  appreciable 
influence  upon  the  estimate  in  which  the  poet  has  been 
held  by  scholars. 

One  of  the  two  is  a Frenchman.  It  was  in  1859  ^liat  M, 
Sandras  brought  out  a treatise  upon  Chaucer  considered 
as  an  imitator  of  the  trouveres.^  He  had  for  the  task 
some  qualifications  by  no  means  to  be  despised.  He 
was  possessed  of  a good  deal  of  learning  in  that  sort  of 
reading  that  is  not  much  read  He  was,  moreover,  a 
man  of  fair  critical  judgment,  though  this,  hampered  as 
it  was  by  narrow  canons  of  taste,  never  had  an  oppor- 
tunity to  display  itself  with  its  natural  effectiveness. 
But  the  one  thing  that  vitiated  his  whole  performance 
was  the  belief  with  which  he  started.  It  was  not  defi- 
nitely stated  by  him,  but  it  was  clearly  held,  that  about 
everything  in  the  shape  of  invention  which  showed  it- 
self in  the  literature  of  the  Middle  Ages  owed  its  origin 
to  the  poets  of  Northern  France.  Italy  was  as  much 
under  obligations  to  them  as  England.  Boccaccio  was 
as  much  in  their  debt  as  Chaucer*  That  the  same  thins; 

o 

^ Etude  sur  G.  Chaucer  considdri  comme  Enitateur  des  Trouveres.  Par 
E.-G.  Sandras.  Paris,  1859. 


408  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

might  occur  independently  to  two  persons,  or  spring  up 
among  two  peoples,  was  a possibility  that  never  entered 
the  mind  of  Sandras.  He  is,  accordingly,  a distinguished 
representative  of  that  class  of  scholars  who  go  a great 
way  to  find  nothing,  and  then  come  back  to  boast  of  the 
results  they  have  achieved.  Had  he  set  himself  to  work 
to  point  out  the  unmistakable  translations  made  by 
Chaucer  of  phrases,  lines,  or  passages  found  in  the  writ- 
ers of  his  native  land,  he  would  have  done  not  a very 
great,  but  still  a very  useful,  service.  Such  transfer- 
rences  exist,  and  are  often  of  special  interest  on  account 
of  the  aid  they  are  able  to  give  in  tracing  the  develop- 
ment of  the  poet’s  powers.  But  this  was  not  the  end 
Sandras  had  directly  in  view.  Outside  of  passages 
which  had  already  been  noted  by  others,  the  results  of 
his  investigation  added  no  very  appreciable  amount  to 
the  sum  of  Chaucer’s  indebtedness.  His  main  object 
was  to  show  that  it  was  the  plot,  the  groundwork  of  the 
story,  that  had  been  taken.  This  was  something  that 
in  the  majority  of  cases  could  not  be  done,  for  reasons 
that  will  shortly  be  given. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  work  Sandras  might  have 
done,  he  lacked  the  judgment  to  do  satisfactorily.  He 
carried  his  charge  of  borrowing  phrases  and  lines  and 
ideas  to  an  extent  that  would  have  rendered  it  an 
easy  matter  to  bring  a general  indictment  of  plagiarism 
against  the  human  race.  There  was  hardly  anything  so 
common,  so  natural,  almost  so  inevitable,  that  it  had 
not  been  borrowed,  for  no  other  reason  than  that  some- 
thing like  it  could  be  found  somewhere  else.  He  suc- 
ceeded, however,  in  showing  to  his  own  satisfaction  that 


SANDRAS  ON  CHAUCER’S  ORIGINALITY  409 

Chaucer,  while  being  an  imitator  of  everybody  in  gen- 
eral, was  in  particular  an  imitator  of  the  old  French 
poets.  “ On  every  page  and  every  line  of  his  writ- 
ings,” he  said,  ‘‘  a reminiscence  of  our  trouveres  betrays 
itself,  sometimes  veiled,  sometimes  apparent.”  He  was 
throughout  full  of  compliments  to  the  poet’s  erudition 
at  the  expense  of  his  originality.  His  imagination,  he 
told  us,  is  always  the  echo  of  his  learning.  Many  of 
Sandras’s  illustrations  of  his  assertions  are  taken  from 
poems  we  now  know  to  be  spurious.  It  is  consequently 
a source  of  some  gratification  to  the  cynical  mind  to 
learn  by  the  method  of  reasoning  he  employed  that  the 
authors  of  these  productions,  whoever  they  were,  were 
in  possession  of  the  same  profound  erudition  as  Chaucer 
himself,  had  studied  as  attentively  the  early  French  writ- 
ers, and  were  affected  by  their  influence  as  profoundly. 
For  instance,  according  to  his  authority,  Machault  is 
responsible  for  the  introductory  portion  of  ‘ The  Flower 
and  the  Leaf  ;’  its  allegory  is  suggested  by  Eustache 
Deschamps,  and  its  conclusion  recalls  the  Lai  du  Trot. 
‘The  Dream,’  or,  as  it  is  now  often  called,  ‘The  Isle  of 
Ladies,’  was  inspired  by  the  writings  of  Marie  of  France, 
and  various  other  productions  which  are  carefully  speci- 
fied. ‘ The  Complaint  of  the  Black  Knight,’  now  known 
to  be  Lydgate’s,  is  also  from  a French  source.  More- 
over, in  all  of  these  poems,  and  in  the  ‘Court  of  Love’ 
also,  the  influence  of  Machault  is  everywhere  paramount. 

There  is,  indeed,  nothing  more  noticeable  in  the  work 
of  Sandras  than  the  confident  and  superior  way  in  which 
he  discusses  the  achievement  of  Chaucer,  points  out  the 
particulars  in  which  he  was  inferior  to  Boccaccio,  and 


410  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

settles  definitely  his  place  in  the  roll  of  men  of  genius. 
His  treatise  is  pervaded  throughout  by  the  tone  of  pat- 
ronage with  which  small  critics  are  wont  to  decide 
upon  the  merits  of  great  authors.  The  impertinence 
is  frequently  so  impertinent  that  it  excites  amusement 
rather  than  resentment.  Nor  is  the  expression  of  it 
limited  to  the  poet ; it  extends  to  his  editors.  Sandras 
majestically  rebuked  Tyrwhitt  for  insinuating  a doubt 
as  to  the  authenticity  of  ‘ The  Flower  and  the  Leaf.’ 
There  was  not  the  least  reason  for  scepticism,  he  as- 
sured us.  The  work  was  written  in  the  taste  of  the 
time ; the  language  was  not  only  the  language  of  Chau- 
cer’s age,  but  of  Chaucer  himself;  the  verse  was  the 
same  as  he  has  elsewhere  employed.  It  necessarily 
followed  that  the  poem  was  an  imitation  of  French 
writers,  especially  of  Machault.  The  originality  of  this 
particular  production  does  not  concern  us.  The  capac- 
ity, however,  which  Sandras  displayed  for  finding  direct 
indebtedness  where  other  men  would  only  see  remote 
resemblances  was  not  confined  to  the  works  now  gener- 
ally admitted  to  be  spurious.  Chaucer  in  a little  poem 
on  the  variability  of  fortune — which  is  itself  not  improb- 
ably a translation — observes  that  the  sea  may  ebb  and 
flow  more  and  less.  The  remark  is  not  likely  to  impress 
any  one  as  especially  novel  or  striking.  It  might  natu- 
rally have  occurred  to  the  most  prosaic  of  us  all  under 
the  most  prosaic  of  circumstances.  Sandras  assures  us 
that  the  thought  was  taken  by  Chaucer  from  a poem 
of  Machault  on  the  same  general  subject.  In  this  a 
comparison  is  made  to  the  effect  that  the  sea  is  some- 
times quiet  and  peaceable,  and  sometimes  its  voice  is 


SANDRAS  ON  CHAUCER’S  ORIGINALITY  41I 

terrible  and  full  of  wrath.  No  small  share  of  the  in- 
debtedness which  this  French  critic  and  other  critics 
impute  to  the  English  poet  turns  out,  when  brought  to 
the  test,  to  be  of  this  magnificently  vague  character. 

It  would  be  folly,  indeed,  to  seek  to  deny  or  to  lessen 
the  obligations  which  Chaucer  is  under  to  previous  au- 
thors. To  do  so  would  be  to  gainsay  his  own  positive 
testimony.  These  obligations  were  numerous ; though 
probably  no  more  numerous  than  any  great  writer  of  his 
age  under  similar  conditions  would  have  been  willing  to 
incur.  It  is  the  extraordinary  extent  to  which  the  fact 
of  indebtedness  has  been  pushed  in  his  case  that  makes 
the  imputation  offensive.  Moreover,  many  of  the  asser- 
tions made  are  without  proof  as  well  as  without  point. 
They  have  been  manufactured  for  no  other  purpose 
than  to  exhibit  the  erudition  of  the  person  who  brings 
the  charge.  Illustrations  of  this  occur  in  the  com- 
ments of  Sandras  upon  the  ‘ Parliament  of  Fowls.’  He 
represented  Chaucer  as  having  put  under  contribution 
in  this  one  poem  Cicero,  Statius,  Dante,  Guillaume  de 
Lorris,  Boccaccio,  and  Alain  de  ITsle.  That  he  also 
discovered  traces  of  Machault  was  not  wonderful ; he 
discovered  him  everywhere.  He  was  inclined  to  add 
Volucraire  to  the  list;  but  as  he  had  met  with  no  evi- 
dence of  imitation,  he  exercised  sufficient  self-restraint 
to  put  him  only  among  the  authorities  that  might  have 
been  used.  No  one  is  called  upon  to  deny  that  Chaucer 
had  read  the  writers  just  named.  His  obligations  to  one 
of  them  he  specifies  himself  in  the  text  of  this  very  work, 
and  describes  with  the  utmost  precision  the  passage  he 
is  adapting.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  Sandras,  for  his 


1 


412  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

own  sake,  did  not  in  this  matter  imitate  the  poet  he 
was  criticising.  Examples  of  translation  occur  besides 
those  the  author  himself  mentioned ; but  as  they  were 
well  known,  his  critic  devoted  himself  to  the  task  of 
finding  some  that  had  no  existence.  He  made  the  dis- 
covery that  Chaucer  drew  his  portrait  of  Nature  from 
Alain  de  I’lsle.  The  sufficient  answer  to  this  is  that 
Chaucer  drew  no  portrait  of  Nature  at  all.  He  simply 
said  that  she  presented  herself  in  the  scene  which  he 
describes,  just  as  Alain  de  ITsle  had  painted  her  in  the 
treatise  of  his  to  which  he  calls  attention.*  He  refers 
to  this  author  just  as  in  scores  of  places  he  refers  to 
other  authors;  but  the  utmost  he  derives  from  him  in  this 
poem  are  a few  scattered  words  and  phrases.  So,  again, 
Sandras  prided  himself  upon  unearthing  the  original  of 
the  roundel  of  which  Chaucer  speaks  in  the  ninety- 
seventh  stanza.  It  was  composed,  he  tells  us,  by  Ma- 
chault.  From  Machault  Chaucer  borrowed  it.  The 
critic  had  clearly  never  read  understandingly  the  produc- 
tion upon  which  he  was  commenting.  The  poet  did  not 
say  that  the  song  which  he  wrote  was  composed  in 
France,  but  the  music  to  v/hich  the  song  was  set.  His 
obligation  to  Machault,  therefore,  if  it  existed  at  all,  con- 
sisted not  in  translating  any  of  his  words,  but  in  writing 
some  verses  of  his  own  to  a tune  to  which  Machault  had 
composed  some  words,  or  possibly  the  tune  itself.  The 
matter  is  of  no  special  importance;  it  is  interesting  as  one 
of  many  instances  that  might  be  cited  to  show  how  fre- 
quently the  vaunted  discoveries  of  Chaucer  sources,  when 
run  down  to  their  own  sources,  shrink  into  nothingness. 


See  vol.  ii,,  p.  345. 


WRIGHT  ON  CHAUCER’S  ORIGINALITY  413 

But  a more  aggravating  illustration  of  this  propensity 
to  make  the  poet  a mere  repeater  of  other  men’s  phrases 
and  ideas  has  been  furnished  by  one  of  his  own  country- 
men, whose  assertions  on  several  points  have  more  than 
once  demanded  attention  in  these  pages.  Mr.  Wright 
defended  Chaucer  from  the  charge  of  having  borrowed 
any  of  his  tales  from  the  prose  of  Boccaccio.  So  far  he 
was  right.  Not  a shred  of  real  evidence  has  yet  been 
brought  forward  to  show  that  Chaucer  had  ever  read  a 
line  of  the  ‘Decameron.’  All  the  resemblances  that 
have  been  noted  between  the  two  greatest  works  of 
these  two  great  authors,  whether  in  the  general  outline 
or  in  particular  details,  are  of  the  most  superficial  char- 
acter. But  while  Wright  vindicated  the  originality  of 
the  English  writer  as  against  the  Italian,  he  was  equally 
careful  not  to  impute  to  him  the  possibility  of  origi- 
nality itself.  His  stories  were  not  taken  from  the  ‘De- 
cameron;’ they  were  taken  from  older  French  fabliaux, 
from  which,  for  that  matter,  Boccaccio  had  himself 
taken  them.  The  indebtedness  thus  remained  the 
same  ; only  the  penetration  of  the  scholar  had  pushed  it 
a little  farther  back.  “In  fact,”  says  Wright  of  Chaucer, 
“nearly  all  his  poems  are  translated  from  the  French.”* 
In  proof  of  this,  he  printed  the  original  fabliau  of  which, 
according  to  his  assertion,  the  Reeve’s  tale  was  * the 
English  version.  This  hitherto  unnoticed  production 
existed  in  a manuscript  in  the  Library  of  Berne.  The 
discovery  of  the  use  made  of  it  by  Chaucer  is  due  to 
Mr.  Wright.  He  added  the  English  poem  for  the  sake, 
he  told  us,  of  facilitating  comparison.  Comparison  was 


^ Anecdota  Literaria,  p.  14.  See  also  vol.  ii.  of  this  work,  p.  215  ff. 


414  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

the  one  thing  it  was  not  desirable  to  have  facilitated. 
The  conspicuous  thing  about  this  so-called  translation 
is  the  little  it  has  in  common  with  the  supposed  original. 
The  stories,  it  is  true,  are  at  bottom  essentially  the 
same;  at  least  the  central  situation  is  the  same  after  the 
clerks  have  taken  up  their  lodgings  at  the  miller’s.  In 
nearly  every  detail  outside  of  this  they  are  as  divergent 
as  they  could  well  have  been  made  in  two  different 
versions  of  the  same  incidents,  written  by  two  different 
persons  at  different  times,  and  entirely  ignorant  of  each 
other’s  work.  There  is  not  a single  line  in  the  two,  not 
even  a single  phrase,  that  bears  the  mark  of  translation 
on  the  part  of  the  English  poet.  Yet  Mr.  Wright 
assures  us  that  there  is  only  a “slight  variation”  be- 
tween the  two.  To  speak  of  the  Reeve’s  tale  as  having 
been  a version  or  even  an  adaptation  of  this  particular 
fabliau,  in  the  teeth  of  the  evidence  to  the  contrary 
which  was  printed,  shows  either  a certain  confidence  in 
the  credulity  or  carelessness  of  readers,  or  rather  the 
existence  of  a certain  wrong-headedness,  not  uncommon 
among  commentators,  which  is  willing  to  sacrifice  the 
reputation  of  an  author  for  the  sake  of  enhancing  the 
value  of  some  fancied  discovery  of  one’s  own. 

The  truth  of  the  matter  is  that  in  Chaucer’s  time  a 
vast  number  of  stories  were  floating  about  in  the  com- 
munity. They  were  sometimes  committed  to  writing, 
and  sometimes  they  were  not.  Whether  transmitted  by 
pen  or  tongue,  they  necessarily  underwent  change  of 
form,  as  told  in  different  places  or  repeated  by  different 
persons.  They  were  the  common  property  of  every 
writer  who  chose  to  make  them  the  groundwork  of  the 


INVENTION  OF  TALES 


415 


tale  he  was  about  to  tell,  or  the  poem  he  was  about  to 
compose.  Where  or  how  they  first  came  into  being 
would  be  difficult  to  discover  in  any  case,  and  impos- 
sible in  nearly  all.  The  utmost  that  investigation  can 
hope  to  accomplish  in  these  respects  is  to  ascertain  not 
the  place  where  they  were  invented,  but  the  place  where 
they  made  their  first  appearance  in  literature.  It  can 
readily  be  conceded  that  it  was  in  France  that  many, 
and  perhaps  the  majority,  of  them  were  originally  com- 
mitted to  writing.  It  is  not  improbable,  also,  that  to 
that  country  no  small  number  of  them  owed  their  crea- 
tion. It  was  there  that  the  purely  literary  movement  of 
the  Middle  Ages  took  its  rise.  There  for  a long  time  it 
flourished  far  more  luxuriantly  than  in  the  neighboring 
lands.  But  the  place  of  origin  is  something  that  can 
never  be  established  with  certainty  in  the  case  of  particu- 
lar tales,  and,  inasmuch  as  no  one  person  or  region  can 
be  regarded  as  having  in  them  a vested  right,  the  ques- 
tion is  not  one  of  special  importance.  However  or  wher- 
ever they  originated,  they  spread  far  and  wide.  They 
were,  in  process  of  time,  brought  together  in  collections. 
Sometimes  it  was  for  the  purpose  of  enforcing  a moral, 
as  in  the  Gesta  Romanortun ; sometimes,  as  at  a later 
period  in  the  ‘Decameron,’  for  the  purpose  of  furnishing 
entertainment.  Several  other  works  had  been  in  exist- 
ence, or  came  into  existence,  of  a character  similar  to 
these  two.  But  originality,  if  that  word  be  used  in  the 
sense  of  pure  invention,  does  not  belong  to  the  com- 
piler of  a single  one  of  these  collections.  The  vast 
majority  of  the  tales  found  in  them  were,  in  fact,  never 
invented  by  anybody,  in  the  strict  sense  of  that  term. 


4i6  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

They  are  simply  the  record  of  what  had  occurred  some- 
where. 

In  those  days,  too,  when  newspapers  did  not  exist,  and 
books  of  any  kind  were  rare,  there  must  have  been  a far 
larger  number  than  now  of  professed  story-tellers.  They 
were  always  on  the  lookout  for  new  things  to  relate. 
Whenever  a new  set  of  incidents  sufficient  to  make  an 
interesting  story  came  to  their  ears,  whether  actually 
happening  or  merely  the  creation  of  the  imagination, 
they  made  themselves  masters  of  all  the  details ; they 
cherished  them  in  their  memory ; they  repeated  them 
whenever  a fitting  occasion  presented  itself.  As  a re- 
sult, they  kept  them  in  constant  circulation.  Certain 
instrumentalities  were  likewise  ever  at  work  to  effect 
changes  in  their  structure.  The  incidents  that  marked 
them  were  always  subject,  in  the  first  place,  to  those  va- 
riations which  follow  from  the  incapacity  of  the  average 
man  to  retell  a story  exactly  as  it  was  told,  or  to  recite 
facts  precisely  as  they  occurred.  Besides  this  inevitable 
departure  from  the  original  form,  they  would  come  un- 
der the  influence  of  special  agencies  affecting  their  char- 
acter. They  would,  as  time  went  on,  be  altered  by  the 
retailer  to  suit  the  audience  he  was  addressing.  They 
would  be  modified  so  as  to  make  the  circumstances  re- 
counted in  them  more  effective.  They  would  be  ampli- 
fied so  as  to  give  them  a more  prolonged  and  sustained 
interest.  They  would  often  have  added  to  them  mar- 
vellous details  in  order  to  heighten  their  impression  in  a 
wonder-loving  age.  When,  in  particular,  they  fell  into 
the  hands  of  a man  of  genius,  such,  for  instance,  as  was 
Boccaccio,  he  never  supposed  himself  under  the  neces- 


TREATMENT  OF  HIS  MATERIAL  417 

sity  of  adhering  to  the  events  of  the  story  as  originally 
told.  He  seized  upon  the  most  effective  form  of  it,  if 
it  had  more  than  one  form  ; if  not,  he  selected  from  it 
what  was  best  for  his  purpose,  and  let  the  rest  go.  He 
shortened  or  enlarged  passages  in  it  at  pleasure ; he  re- 
inforced it  with  additional  incidents,  or  embellished  it 
with  striking  details ; he  enriched  it  with  the  wealth  of 
his  own  wit  or  wisdom  ; in  short,  he  gave  it  that  imprint 
which  took  it  at  once  out  of  the  region  of  prosaic  nar- 
rative and  transported  it  into  the  realm  of  pure  art. 

There  are  plenty  of  illustrations  of  this  truth  to  be 
found  in  the  works  of  the  poet  of  whom  we  are  speak- 
ing. Contrast,  for  example,  the  story  about  the  knight 
as  told  by  Chaucer  in  the  Wife  of  Bath’s  tale  and  by 
Gower  in  the  first  book  of  the  ‘Confessio  Amantis.’ 
Tyrwhitt  thought  the  former  was  borrowed  from  the 
latter,  or  that  the  two  were  perhaps  derived  from  some 
older  source  accessible  to  both  authors.  If  we  have 
to  take  a choice,  the  second  is  the  only  view  that  can 
be  adopted ; but  there  is  no  real  necessity  for  resorting 
to  either.  The  two  tales  owe  their  existence  to  what 
may  be  called  a remote  common  original.  But  the 
variations  are  wide  enough  to  indicate  that  the  immedi- 
ate sources  of  each  were  themselves  probably  different. 
Still,  the  plot  is  essentially  the  same  ; and  for  that  rea- 
son the  treatment  of  it  is  a most  interesting  example  of 
the  difference  that  exists  between  the  work  of  the  man 
of  talent  and  of  the  man  of  genius.  In  both  writers  it 
is  a fairy  story  that  is  related.  In  the  one  it  furnishes 
the  least  possible  entertainment,  and  certainly  teaches 
no  lesson.  It  is  prosaic  throughout.  The  idea  that  the 
III.— 27 


41 8 CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

events  recorded  in  it  could  ever  have  happened  never 
presents  itself  to  the  mind.  They  could  not  have  hap- 
pened, had  even  the  element  of  the  preternatural  been 
eliminated.  In  the  other,  the  tale  as  told  is  full  of  wisest 
observation,  of  keenest  insight  into  character  and  mo- 
tive. The  incidents,  moreover,  are  woven  together  so 
artistically,  and  follow  each  other  so  natural^,  that  the 
reader  loses  sight  or  thought  of  the  central  impossibility 
that  lies  at  the  foundation  of  the  details  which  have 
been  built  upon  it.  More  than  all,  the  story,  starting 
from  the  earth,  lifts  itself  up  to  and  loses  itself  in  that 
poetical  atmosphere  to  which  nothing  but  the  highest 
genius  can  attain. 

A more  marked  instance  even  of  that  originality  of 
treatment  which  gives  to  the  lifeless  skeleton  of  the  plot 
the  vigor  and  unity  of  breathing  life  can  be  found  in  the 
tale  of  the  Nun’s  Priest.  This  is  a story  in  which  hardly 
a single  important  circumstance  is  the  invention  of  the 
poet.  In  some  form  or  another  it  had  been  in  existence 
for  centuries  before  Chaucer  was  born.  His  immediate 
original,  according  to  the  present  state  of  our  knowl- 
edge, must  be  regarded  as  the  Roman  de  Renart}  But 
the  thing  to  be  borne  in  mind  is,  that  all  which  gives 
special  attractiveness  to  this  story  has  been  furnished 
by  Chaucer  himself.  The  incidents  are  largely  the 
same  ; it  is  the  way  they  are  told  that  imparts  to  the 
poem  its  peculiar  charm.  The  vivid  pictures  of  con- 
temporary life,  the  learned  discourses  and  discussions 
put  in  the  mouths  of  the  cock  and  the  hen,  the 
pointed  satirical  touches  glancing  at  almost  every  pro- 


See  vol.  ii.,  p.  215  ff. 


ORIGINALITY  OF  HIS  TREATMENT 


419 


4 


fession  and  almost  every  social  class,  the  humorous  at- 
mosphere that  envelops  the  action  of  the  piece  as  well 
as  the  speeches  of  the  actors — all  these  were  things  that 
could  not  be  borrowed,  because,  outside  of  the  poet’s 
own  creation,  they  never  had  an  existence  in  connection 
with  this  tale. 

In  truth,  the  two  tales  that  have  just  been  mentioned, 
to  the  invention  of  which  the  poet  has  not  the  slightest 
claim,  are  not  only  interesting  illustrations  of  his  method 
of  dealing  with  his  material,  but  they  furnish  the  most 
convincing  proof  of  his  genuine  originality.  The  bare 
outline  of  the  story  he  takes.  He  modifies  it ; he  re- 
trenches it ; he  adds  to  its  details ; he  brings  into  prom- 
inence what  will  contribute  to  the  impression  it  is  de- 
signed to  make;  he  sinks  out  of  sight  or  casts  away 
altogether  what  will  weaken  or  destroy  the  main  effect. 
The  theme  is  sometimes,  perhaps  usually,  widely  known. 
Under  most  circumstances  it  is  likely  to  have  been  well 
worn.  It  is  the  variations  which  he  has  introduced  into 
it  that  have  converted  it  from  a production  fitted  merely 
to  suit  the  taste  of  a particular  age  into  a cherished  pos- 
session of  all  time.  Chaucer  is  never  so  much  the  liter- 
ary artist,  never  so  much  original  in  the  proper  sense  of 
the  word,  as  when  he  is  dealing  at  his  own  free  will  with 
some  story  which  he  is  commonly  credited  with  borrow- 
ing. His  work  is  known  and  read  of  all  men  for  itself. 
That  which  suggested  it  is  known  only  to  the  special 
student,  and  is  often  read  by  him  for  no  other  reason 
than  that  the  great  poet  is  supposed  to  have  read  it 
before. 

We  can  plant  ourselves  upon  firmer  ground  even  than 


420  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

this.  In  nothing  is  the  originality  of  Chaucer  more 
strikingly  seen  than  in  the  fact  that  his  tales  depend  very 
slightly  for  their  interest  upon  the  invention.'  There  are 
in  them  few  striking  situations,  few  startling  surprises, 
few  things  that  keep  the  attention  of  the  reader  on  the 
strain.  He  is  urged  forward  by  no  feverish  desire  to 
find  out  what  may  be  coming  next;  he  is  not  impatient 
to  reach  the  conclusion.  The  interest  rarely  culminates 
in  the  catastrophe  ; it  is  diffused  through  the  whole 
piece.  The  story  moves  on,  to  be  sure,  without  rest, 
but  also  without  haste.  The  most  apparent  exception 
to  this  view  is  the  Pardoner’s  tale.  In  it  almost  alone 
the  element  of  a startling  denouement  is  introduced. 
Yet  even  in  that  its  superiority  as  a work  of  art  becomes 
evident  when  once  it  is  compared  with  similar  narratives, 
found  both  in  Eastern  and  Western  tongues,  which  re- 
cord incidents  of  the  same  general  character.  The  con- 
trast shows  clearly  how  carefully  the  story,  as  a story, 
has  been  worked  up ; how  the  surprise  of  the  reader  at 
the  conclusion  is  enhanced  by  the  incidents  that  impart 
an  interest  of  peculiar  vividness  to  the  tale  while  it  is  in 
process  of  narration.  The  natural  touches,  in  particular, 
which  are  given  to  the  interview  that  the  three  drunken 
rioters  unconsciously  hold  with  the  being  they  had  set 
out  to  slay,  cling  to  the  memory  and  affect  the  imagina- 
tion even  more  than  the  startling  revelation  of  the  iden- 
tity of  the  All-destroyer  with  him  who  had  bewailed  his 
inability  to  leave  a life  that  had  long  ceased  to  be  worth 
living.  , 

Nor,  furthermore,  need  we  for  Chaucer’s  sake  insist 
upon  the  plea  of  the  rightfulness  of  plundering  other 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT  OF  HIS  OBLIGATIONS  42 1 

authors  which  has  been  pleaded  so  earnestly  in  his  be- 
half. It  has  certainly  been  a generally  received  article 
of  faith  among  commentators  upon  Chaucer  that  the 
poet  took  any  good  thing  he  found  to  his  purpose. 
There  is  no  need,  as  has  been  said,  of  a denial  of  this 
charge,  so  far  as  it  relates  to  the  plot.  It  is  a matter  of 
no  consequence.  It  is  only  the  inferences  that  have 
been  drawn  from  the  charge  that  demand  contradiction. 
When  we  come,  however,  to  the  direct  transfer  of  lines 
and  passages  from  foreign  writers,  it  may  fairly  be  main- 
tained that  the  position  occupied  is  entirely  different. 
Still,  even  here  the  plea  has  been  set  up  that,  while  it  is 
true  that  Chaucer  thus  appropriated  the  works  of  oth- 
ers, he  was  justified  by  the  general  practice  of  his  time. 
The  standard  of  morality,  it  is  maintained,  was  different 
in  that  age  from  what  it  is  now.  This  may  be  the  cor- 
rect view;  still,  we  have  hardly  the  knowledge  sufficient 
to  pronounce  decisively  upon  the  point.  Men  in  Chau- 
cer’s day  undoubtedly  helped  themselves  with  as  little 
scruple  as  they  do  now  to  anything  found  in  a strange 
tongue,  and  conveyed  it  to  their  own.  They  may  or 
may  not  have  acknowledged  it.  Upon  that  would 
now  depend  entirely  their  reputation  for  literary  hon- 
esty. That  they  then  did  so  sometimes  is  evident  from 
the  references  to  the  original  found  on  the  margin  of 
the  manuscripts.  These  in  most  cases  certainly,  and 
probably  in  all  cases,  came  from  the  author  himself. 
But  if  he  invariably  noted  his  obligations,  the  copyists, 
who  did  not  share  in  his  sensitiveness  on  this  point, 
would  ordinarily  not  take  the  trouble  to  continue  them. 
The  writing  of  marginal  references  imposed  additional 


422  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

labor  without  being  conducive  to  any  good  end,  in  the 
eyes  of  the  scribes.  These,  it  must  be  remembered,  all 
belonged  to  the  age  of  manuscript,  when  it  was  the 
things  that  were  said  that  were  of  interest,  and  not  the 
way  they  came  to  be  said.  The  tendency,  therefore, 
would  be  more  and  more  to  drop  the  references  as  time 
went  on.  The  absence  of  them,  accordingly,  in  any 
given  copy  or  copies  is  no  proof  that  the  author  him- 
self had  not  originally  admitted  the  obligation  he  was 
under.  This  view  is  made  more  credible  by  the  fact 
that  references  appear  in  certain  manuscripts  of  the 
same  work  and  not  in  others,  and  it  is  usually,  perhaps 
invariably,  in  the  best  manuscripts  that  they  appear 
most  frequently  and  fully. 

Chaucer  assuredly  followed  the  usual  custom  of  his 
time,  and  more  especially  of  his  nation,  in  the  matter  of 
borrowing  from  foreign  sources.  His  indebtedness  for 
special  lines  and  ideas  has  sometimes  been  largely  exag- 
gerated. The  attention  paid  to  it  has  often  had  no  jus- 
tification in  the  facts.  Still,  that  is  a phase  of  criticism 
which  is  sure  to  show  itself  at  some  time  in  the  literary 
history  of  almost  every  great  writer  who  has  a past  be- 
hind him,  and  who  has  made  himself  familiar  with  what 
it  has  transmitted.  No  student  is  likely  to  forget  the 
immense  fungous  growth  of  annotation,  due  to  this 
cause,  which  for  a long  period  overspread  edition  after 
edition  of  Milton,  and  has  not  yet  been  entirely  cleared 
away.  The  text  sank  almost  out  of  sight  and  memory 
in  the  superabundance  of  commentary.  This  was  given 
up  mainly  to  recording  the  resemblances  which  indus- 
trious dulness  had  secured  by  rummaging  the  forgotten 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT  OF  HIS  OBLIGATIONS  423 

works  of  some  authors  and  the  works  of  some  forgotten 
authors.  Page  after  page  was  taken  up  in  pointing  out 
how  Milton  had  in  mind,  or  may  have  had  in  mind, 
some  particular  passage  from  some  particular  author; 
how  this  epithet  or  that  phrase  might  have  come  from 
some  poem  or  verse  written  often  by  somebody  whom 
no  one  else  but  the  discoverer  had  ever  read.  Chaucer 
would  long  ago  have  been  subjected  to  the  same  trial, 
had  not  the  process  involved  an  amount  of  research  to 
which  scholarship  competent  to  make  such  an  investiga- 
tion would  ordinarily  refuse  to  devote  itself. 

It  is  not  meant  to  be  implied  by  these  words  that  the 
poet  was  not  under  great  obligations  to  previous  writ- 
ers in  the  matter  of  direct  appropriation.  The  subject 
in  its  details  has  been  discussed  elsewhere.  Here  it  is 
only  necessary  to  say  that,  in  addition  to  his  professed 
translations  or  adaptations,  he  inserted  scraps  from 
Latin,  French,  and  Italian  authors  in  his  poems.  Some- 
times they  were  single  lines,  sometimes  whole  sentences ; 
in  two  or  three  instances  they  were  long  passages.  But 
so  far  from  being  the  literary  pirate  he  is  often  repre- 
sented to  be,  there  is  scarcely  an  author  to  be  found 
anywhere  who  is  more  scrupulous  about  acknowledging 
his  obligations.  The  very  epithet  of  “great  translator” 
which  Eustache  Deschamps  applied  to  him  shows  that 
he  must  have  openly  and  fully  avowed  the  sources  from 
which  he  drew  many  of  his  poems.  In  one  written  at  a 
late  period  of  his  life,  he  specifically  asserts  that  it  is 
a close  version,  especially  as  regards  its  metrical  form, 
from  the  French  of  Granson.  His  desire,  indeed,  to 
give  prominence  to  his  authorities  amounts  almost  to 


424  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

anxiety.  He  frequently  mentions  them  in  express 
terms.  He  specifies  by  name  Virgil,  Ovid,  Statius, 
Dante,  Petrarch,  and  many  others.  He  sometimes  gives 
details,  connected  with  the  introduction  of  what  he  is 
going  to  say,  that  direct  the  reader  to  the  passage 
quoted  or  to  the  writer  intended.  If  he  does  neither  of 
these,  he  is  very  apt  to  state  in  general  terms  that  what 
he  is  about  to  tell  has  been  found  in  an  old  book  or  in 
an  old  story  told  by  men  of  a past  race. 

Chaucer,  indeed,  carries  to  excess  the  disposition  to 
deny  his  own  originality.  The  words  he  uses  would 
have  furnished  some  justification  for  his  critics  in  this 
matter,  were  it  not  evident  from  their  words  that  his  had 
never  been  read.  Examples  are  numerous.  His‘Troi- 
lus  and  Cressida’  is  based  upon  the  Filostrato  of  Boc- 
caccio. From  that  work,  as  we  have  seen,^  about  one 
third  of  the  English  poem  is  taken  directly.  Lines  are 
frequently,  and  stanzas  are  occasionally,  translated  with 
fidelity.  The  remaining  two  thirds  is,  with  slight  excep- 
tions, Chaucer’s  own  invention,  so  far  as  we  have  any 
evidence.  Yet  he  persistently  calls  the  work  through- 
out a translation.  He  apologizes  for  not  telling  certain 
things  which  might  have  been  expected  because  they 
are  not  found  in  the  work  which  he  professes  to  follow. 

I He  gives  again  as  a reason  for  telling  certain  distasteful 
^ things,  that  they  are  found  there.  In  the  proem  to  the 
fourth  book  he  expresses  his  disinclination  to  relate  the 
particulars  of  Cressida’s  unfaithfulness.  Yet  he  must 
do  it,  because  the  tale  has  been  so  told  by  “ folk  through 
which  it  is  in  mind.”  There  is  exhibited  by  him  in 


* Vol.  ii.,  p.  227, 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT  OF  HIS  OBLIGATIONS  425 

another  place  in  the  same  work  an  almost  affected  as- 
tonishment at  his  inability  to  record  everything  in  the 
way  of  word  or  look  or  message  that  had  gone  on  be- 
tween his  hero  and  heroine.  For  his  failure  to  do  this 
he  defends  himself  from  the  attacks  of  an  imaginary 
accuser  by  thrusting  the  responsibility  from  his  own 
shoulders  to  those  of  the  author  he  is  following.  Here 
are  his  words : 

“ Forsooth  I have  not  heard  it  done  ere  this 
In  story  none,  ne  no  man  here,  I ween ; 

And  though  I would  I coulde  not  iwis;^ 

For  there  was  some  epistle  hem’^  between, 

That  would,  as  saith  mine  author,  well  contene^ 

Nigh  half  this  book,  of  which  him  list  not  write : 

How  should  I then  a line  of  it  endite  iii.,  498-504. 

The  necessity  of  faithfully  reproducing  his  original  is 
constantly  impressed  upon  the  reader’s  or  hearer’s  mind 
as  something  that  cannot  and  ought  not  to  be  avoided  ; 
and  the  remarkable  thing  about  it  in  this  poem  is  that 
nowhere  is  it  more  pertinaciously  insisted  upoyi  than  in 
those  passages  which,  according  to  the  present  knowl- 
edge we  have,  are  his  own  unaided  composition. 

Whatever  may  have  been  the  special  reason  that  led 
Chaucer  in  this  instance  to  attribute  to  others  what  was 
due  to  himself,  there  can  be  little  question  as  to  his 
general  disposition  to  more  than  acknowledge  the  obliga- 
tions he  owed  to  others.  Instead  of  being  stigmatized 
as  indifferent,  it  would  be  more  just  to  call  him  even 
morbidly  conscientious  on  the  subject  of  borrowing. 
There  is  never  any  pretence  on  his  part  of  being  inde- 


’ Surely, 


2 Them. 


® Contain. 


426  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

pendent  of  his  authorities.  If  he  varies  from  them,  he 
is  so  little  inclined  to  assume  credit  for  it  that  he  makes 
no  mention  of  the  fact.  The  one  apparent  exception 
to  this  practice  was  very  likely  due  to  the  circumstance 
that  he  was  then  dealing  with  a semi-historical  character 
which  he  may  have  deemed  an  historical  one.  About  it 
he  would  therefore  wish  to  give  the  reader  no  false  im- 
pression. In  the  ‘ House  of  Fame  ’ he  takes  his  account 
of  Dido  from  Ovid  and  Virgil.  In  the  course  of  the 
poem,  however,  he  represents  her  as  complaining  in  cer- 
tain terms  not  to  be  found  in  the  writings  of  these  two 
poets.  These  he  is  careful  to  tell  us  are  his  own. 
“ None  other  author  allege  I,”  is  the  phrase  he  uses.^ 
He  writes  as  if  fearful  that  the  words  he  puts  in  her 
mouth  would  be  regarded  as  utterances  authorized  by 
the  two  men  whose  account  he  has  assured  us  he  is  fol- 
lowing. The  remark  is  characteristic.  Were,  indeed, 
Chaucer’s  own  original  manuscript  to  be  recovered,  it 
would  not  be  surprising  to  find  every  author  imitated  in 
the  text  mentioned  in  the  margin,  or  rather  it  would  be 
surprising  to  find  that  such  was  not  the  case.  His  evi- 
dence, therefore,  can  be  taken  against  his  invention  of 
stories  of  which  no  originals  have  been  discovered.  One 
of  these  is  the  Squire’s  tale.  Mr.  Keightley  was  of  opin- 
ion that  Chaucer  himself  invented  this,  clearly  for  the 
reason  that  anything  from  which  it  could  have  been 
derived  had  escaped  his  own  researches,  and  accordingly 
could  not  be  expected  to  have  any  existence  at  all.’ 
Not  much  weight  need  be  attached  to  this  argument, 

1 Line  314.  Thomas  Keightley  (London,  1834), 

‘ Tales  and  Popular  Fictions,  by  p.  77. 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT  OF  HIS  OBLIGATIONS  427 


based,  as  it  was,  upon  self-appreciation  rather  than  upon 
appreciation  of  the  poet.  Still,  as  almost  the  single  in- 
stance in  which  Chaucer  has  been  credited  with  the 
possibility  of  possessing  sufficient  intellectual  power  to 
create  a story  of  his  own,  the  remark  demands  respect- 
ful recognition,  though  it  cannot  meet  with  acceptance. 
No  source  from  which  the  tale  could  have  been  taken 
has,  it  is  true,  been  discovered  ; yet  that  it  was  not  origi- 
nal in  the  sense  in  which  that  word  is  used  or  misused 
is  manifest  from  the  poet’s  own  declaration,  without 
seeking  for  any  other  reason.-  He  assures  us  that  the 
falcon  is  to  have  her  lover  again, 

“ Repentant,  as  the  story  telleth  us.” 

It  is  reasonable,  therefore,  to  infer  that  Chaucer  nev- 
er translated  from  any  author  lines  or  passages  without 
making  formal  mention  of  the  fact.  Time  may  have 
destroyed  the  memory  of  these  acknowledgments,  and 
copyists  may  have  neglected  to  record  them  ; but  that 
they  once  existed  is  to  be  believed,  if  there  is  any  force 
in  arguing  from  the  known  to  the  unknown.  Certainly 
no  author  of  power  so  great  has  assumed  so  little  origi- 
nality as  he.  In  his  earlier  works,  in  particular,  so  far 
as  we  can  venture  to  call  them  earlier,  he  hastens  to 
attribute  his  inspiration  to  sources  outside  of  himself. 
He  has,  for  instance,  been  poring  over  some  old  vol- 
ume. After  he  has  gone  to  bed,  the  events  which  he 
has  been  reading  about  during  the  day  suggest  the 
train  of  incidents  that  occurred  in  the  dream  he  is  pur- 
posing to  tell.  It  is  in  this  way  that  the  ‘ Death  of 
Blanche  ’ opens.  The  poet  falls  asleep  with  Ovid’s  ac- 


428  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

count  of  Ceyx  and  Alcyone  in  his  mind.  So  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  ‘ Parliament  of  Fowls  ’ it  appears  that  it 
is  the  ‘ Dream  of  Scipio  ’ that  has  been  occupying  his 
thoughts  while  daylight  lasted.  This  production  is  re- 
markable for  ending  with  the  most  explicit  acknowl- 
edgment by  Chaucer  of  his  dependence  upon  the  writ- 
ings of  the  past  for  the  furtherance  of  his  own  poetical 
development.  Nothing  could  be  more  unreserved  than 
the  following  words : 

“ And  with  the  shouting,  when  the  song  was  do,^ 

The  fowles  maden  at  here^  flight  away, 

I woke,  and  other  bookes  took  me  to 
To  read  upon ; and  yet  I read  alway 
In  hope  iwis®  to  reade  so  some  day. 

That  I shall  mete*  something  for  to  fare 
The  bet,®  and  thus  to  read  I nill®  not  spare.” 

This  language  is  noteworthy.  It  was  then  the  fashion 
, in  literature  to  tell  what  one  had  to  say  in  the  shape  of 
a dream  ; and  for  the  inspiration  of  his  dreams  Chaucer 
relies  upon  the  books  he  may  be  able  to  read.  Refer- 
ences of  this  character  are  more  abundant  and  more 
specific  in  his  earlier  works;  still,  they  occur  in  what 
must  have  been  his  latest,  though  expressed  in  more 
general  terms.  By  that  time  he  had  doubtless  discov- 
ered that  the  incidents  he  narrated  owed  more  to  him 
than  he  did  to  the  incidents.  We  need  not  claim  that 
this  disposition  to  parade  his  obligations  rather  than 
conceal  them  sprang  entirely  from  a virtue  which  dis- 
dained any  praise  for  that  which  was  not  its  due. 

^ Done.  Their.  ® Surely.  * Dream.  ® Better.  ® Will  not. 


OBLIGATIONS  TO  OTHERS  UNIMPORTANT  429 

Much  of  it  can  be  reasonably  ascribed  to  a pardona- 
ble weakness  of  human  nature.  These  quotations  and 
references  were  an  evidence  of  learning;  and  in  an  age 
when  few  could  read  at  all,  it  could  not  but  be  a dis- 
tinction to  have  read  much. 

This  defence  of  Chaucer  against  the  charge  of  persist- 
ent and  unacknowledged  borrowing  will  not  be  deemed 
unjustifiably  protracted  by  those  who  have  made  them- 
selves familiar  with  the  peculiar  comments  to  which 
he  has  been  subjected  in  this  respect,  and  the  peculiar 
standard  which  has  been  set  up  to  test  his  originality. 
Such  a defence  is  perhaps  more  needed  at  present  than 
at  any  previous  time.  There  are  numerous  indications 
to  show  that  discussion  of  his  writings  is  about  to  enter 
fully  into  what  may  be  called  the  detective  stage  of 
criticism.  His  general  greatness  will  be  more  cordial- 
ly recognized  than  ever  before.  But  along  with  it  not 
only  every  idea,  but  every  peculiarity  of  expression,  is 
to  be  looked  for  in  the  writings  of  some  one  else.  I 
should  not  wish  to  be  understood  as  arguing  against 
the  desirability  or  importance  of  the  study  of  the 
sources  of  an  author’s  materials.  It  is  the  perversion 
of  the  results  of  such  study  to  the  disparagement  of  an 
author’s  originality  against  which  protest  needs  to  be 
made.  A literary  tribunal  that  exercises  no  higher 
functions  than  those  of  a police-court  sitting  in  judg- 
ment upon  the  perpetrators  of  petty  thefts  is  not  one 
before  which  a man  of  genius  can  be  properly  dragged. 
Moreover,  while  the  importance  of  questions  of  this  kind 
need  not  be  denied,  it  is  none  the  less  to  be  insisted 
upon  that  they  are  not  questions  of  first  importance. 


430  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

They  are  sometimes  valuable  ; they  are  often  curious ; 
but  they  are  in  no  way  essential  to  our  knowledge  or 
appreciation  of  the  work  of  the  poet  as  poet.  Schol- 
ars engaged  in  these  investigations  are,  however,  much 
disposed  to  lose  sight  of  this  fact.  It  is  well,  there- 
fore, again  and  again  to  make  prominent  the  point 
that  Chaucer  is  first  and  foremost  a man  of  letters, 
and  as  a man  of  letters  he  must  be  judged.  Where  he 
got  his  materials  may  be  of  interest  to  the  special  stu- 
dent of  comparative  literature.  It  is  of  the  slightest 
possible  interest  to  the  student  of  literature  pure  and 
simple.  What  he  did  with  his  materials  after  he  got 
them  is  the  supreme  thing  that  concerns  the  latter. 

In  conclusion,  all  our  judgments  upon  Chaucer’s  art 
must  be  modified  to  some  extent  by  the  fact  of  the 
frequently  unfinished  condition  in  which  what  he  wrote 
has  come  down.  It  may  be  that  to  the  agencies  which 
brought  about  that  result  was  due  his  failure  to  realize 
in  some  cases  the  ideal  which  in  other  cases  he  attained. 
In  a previous  part  of  this  chapter  attention  has  been 
called  to  the  contrast  in  the  perfection  of  his  work 
which  is  exhibited  in  two  portions  of  one  of  his  tales. 
But  there  are  several  of  his  poems  that  furnish  further 
evidence  of  the  lack  of  final  revision.  They  have  in  cer- 
tain instances  been  put  together  without  that  superin- 
tending oversight  which  never  loses  sight  of  the  har- 
mony of  details.  Even  more  frequently  have  they  been 
left  actually  incomplete.  To  whatever  cause  we  ascribe 
this  fact,  of  the  fact  itself  there  can  be  no  doubt.  The 
list  of  these  unfinished  productions  is  indeed  somewhat 
formidable.  It  would  be  made  even  more  so,  were  we 


INCOMPLETENESS  OF  HIS  WORKS  43 1 

to  add  two  poems — the  ‘ Death  of  Blanche  ’ and  the 
‘Parliament  of  Fowls’ — which,  as  it  has  been  pointed 
out,  terminate  so  abruptly  as  well  as  so  tamely  that  it 
can  be  fairly  said  of  them  that  they  are  broken  off 
rather  than  ended.  But  the  simple  recital  of  the  works 
left  in  an  incomplete  state  is  sufficiently  impressive, 
without  attempting  to  include  these.  The  ‘ House  of 
Fame’  is  unfinished.  ‘ Anelida  and  Arcite  ’ is  unfin- 
ished. The  treatise  on  the  ‘Astrolabe’  is  unfinished. 
The  ‘Legend  of  Good  Women’  is  unfinished.  Even 
the  last  of  its  narratives — the  story  of  Hypermnestra — 
is  unfinished.  Add  to  these  that  Chaucer’s  principal 
production  is  very  far,  indeed,  from  having  been  brought 
to  completion,  and  it  is  safe  to  say  that  no  great  poet 
ever  presented  to  his  contemporaries  or  to  posterity  so 
large  a body  of  unfinished  work. 

The  plan  of  the  ‘ Canterbury  Tales  ’ was  indeed  laid  out 
on  a scale  too  gigantic  to  be  executed  save  by  one  who 
had  at  his  command  unimpaired  vigor  and  unlimited 
leisure.  But  the  work  is  not  only  unfinished  as  a whole, 
it  is  unfinished  in  parts.  There  are,  moreover,  incon- 
sistencies of  statement  by  the  author  himself  as  to  the 
extent  to  which  it  was  expected  to  attain.  There  are 
other  inconsistencies  of  detail  which  disturb  the  correct- 
ness of  any  possible  calculation.  These  things  show  the 
lack  of  final  revision.  They  probably  show,  also,  that 
the  poet  himself  wavered  at  times  in  his  own  mind  as 
to  the  material  he  should  include  in  the  perfected  work. 
At  the  opening  of  the  general  Prologue,  he  states  that 
nine-and-twenty  persons  had  assembled  at  the  Tabard 
to  go  upon  the  pilgrimage  to  Canterbury.  When  he 


432  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

himself  is  added  the  number  becomes  thirty.  But  in 
the  description  he  gives  of  the  characters  in  the  Prol- 
ogue there  are  thirty  without  including  himself.  As, 
later  on,  the  Canon’s  Yeoman  joins  the  party,  there 
are  necessarily  thirty-two  pilgrims  in  all,  not  counting 
the  Host.  According  to  the  scheme  marked  out  at  the 
end  of  the  general  Prologue,  each  one  of  these  is  to  tell 
two  tales  while  going,  and  two  tales  while  returning. 
The  language  is  too  precise  to  admit  of  any  other  pos- 
sible interpretation.  The  agreement,  as  stated  by  the 
Host,  is  as  follows : 

“ This  is  the  point,  to  speaken  short  and  plain, 

That  each  of  you,  to  shorte  with  our  way. 

In  this  viage  shall  telle  tales  tway; 

To  Canterbury-ward,  I mean  it  so ; 

And  homeward  he  shall  tellen  other  two.” 

This  view  is  also  borne  out  by  the  prologue  to  the 
Manciple’s  tale.  In  that  the  Host  calls  upon  the  Cook 
for  a story,  and  it  is  nothing  but  the  latter’s  drunken 
condition  that  prevents  it  from  being  delivered.  Yet 
in  theory  the  Cook  has  already  told  his  tale.  These 
statements  are  susceptible  of  but  one  interpretation. 
Consequently  there  should  be  in  the  finished  work  one 
hundred  and  twenty-eight  tales.  As  a matter  of  fact 
the  number  of  tales,  complete  or  incomplete,  amounts 
to  but  twenty-four.  Not  a single  one  is  recounted  by 
nine  of  the  characters  who  are  introduced  in  the  Prol- 
ogue— the  Yeoman,  the  Haberdasher,  the  Carpenter, 
the  Webbe  or  Weaver,  the  Dyer,  the  Tapisef  or  Up- 
holsterer, the  Plowman,  and  finally  two  of  the  Priests 


INCOMPLETENESS  OF  THE  ‘CANTERBURY  TALES’  433 

who  appear  in  the  train  of  the  Prioress.  The  work, 
therefore,  so  far  as  it  was  executed,  does  not  contain 
one  fifth  of  the  matter  it  was  projected  to  include.  This, 
of  course,  goes  on  the  assumption  that  the  connecting 
links — which  now  extend  to  nearly  twenty-five  hundred 
lines — should  be  on  the  same  proportionate  scale  as 
those  completed,  and  that  the  stories  untold  should 
average  the  same  in  length  as  those  told. 

But  this  is  not  all.  There  are  other  parts  of  the  work 
which  imply,  though  they  do  not  expressly  assert,  that 
but  one  story  is  expected  from  each  of  the  characters 
while  the  company  is  on  the  way  to  Canterbury,  and 
but  one  on  the  way  back.  In  the  prologue  to  the  final 
tale — that  of  the  Parson — the  Host  congratulates  the 
pilgrims  on  the  fact  that  the  scheme  he  projected  had 
been  successfully  carried  out  and  was  now  almost 
finished.  His  words  are, 


“ Lordings  everichon/ 

Now  lacketh  us  no  tales  more  than  one. 

Fulfilled  is  my  sentence  and  my  decree ; 

I trow  that  we  have  heard  of  each  degree ; 

Almost  fulfilled  is  all  mine  ordinance.” 

Then  he  turns  and  addresses  the  Parson,  and  asks  him 
whether  he  is  a priest  or  a vicar,  or  a parson,  and  adds : 

“ Be  what  thou  be,  ne  break  thou  not  our  play, 

For  every  man  save  thou  hath  told  his  tale ; 
Unbuckle  and  show  us  what  is  in  thy  mail.’^ 

For  truely  methinketh  by  thy  cheer 

Thou  shouldest  knit  up  well  a great  mattere.” 

* Every  one.  ^ Bag. 


III.— 28 


434  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

The  natural  interpretation  of  this  passage  is  that  the 
Parson  has  previously  told  no  tale,  and  that  the  other 
characters  have  told  but  one.  But  if  we  assume  this 
to  be  the  plan  which  has  been  agreed  upon,  sixty-four 
instead  of  one  hundred  and  twenty-eight  should  be  the 
number  to  which  the  finished  work  would  be  entitled. 

In  either  case  the  incompleteness  of  the  work  as  a 
whole  is  unquestionable.  But  when  we  come  to  exam- 
ine its  individual  parts  the  same  characteristic  is  at 
times  displayed.  The  tale  of  Sir  Thopas  and  the 
Monk’s  tale  can  be  thrown  out  of  consideration.  The 
former  is  stopped  by  the  Host  and  was  never  intended 
to  be  finished.  The  latter  is  stopped  by  the  Knight, 
but  it  never  could  have  been  finished,  as  the  subject 
was  as  inexhaustible  as  life  itself.  But  these  reasons, 
good  and  sufficient  in  the  particul^ar  instances  just  men- 
tioned, do  not  apply  to  the  case  of  two  others.  The 
Cook’s  tale,  which  from  its  opening  promised  to  be  one 
of  the  most  characteristic  and  entertaining  of  the  poet’s 
compositions  in  his  lighter  vein,  is  so  far  from  being 
concluded  that  it  can  scarcely  be  said  to  have  been 
more  than  begun.  The  less  than  sixty  lines  which  were 
written  do  not  enable  us  to  give  a satisfactory  guess  as 
to  the  nature  of  the  plot.  The  story  told  by  the  Squire 
is  carried  much  further,  but  the  epithet  of  “ half-told  ” 
which  Milton  applied  to  it  will  cling  to  it  forever. 
Finally,  between  some  of  the  tales  there  are  no  connect- 
ing links,  so  that  the  work  as  it  now  stands  consists  of 
either  eight  or  nine  independent  fragments. 

But  besides  this  manifest  failure  to  complete  what  had 
been  undertaken,  there  are  numerous  inconsistencies  in 


INCOMPLETENESS  OF  THE  ‘CANTERBURY  TALES’  435 

minor  matters  which  show  with  how  little  thoroughness 
the  task  of  revision  had  been  performed  at  the  time  of 
the  poet’s  death,  if  indeed  they  do  not  show  that  it  had 
not  been  performed  at  all.  In  the  Merchant’s  tale  one 
of  the  characters,  Justinus,  the  brother  of  the  Lombard 
knight,  is  represented  as  quoting  the  remarks  of  the 
Wife  of  Bath  upon  marriage,  which  had  been  made  in 
the  course  of  the  Canterbury  pilgrimage.  These,  how- 
ever familiar  to  her  hearers,  could  hardly  be  expected 
to  have  reached  the  ears  of  the  Italian  nobleman  who 
is  represented  as  referring  to  them.  The  Second  Nun’s 
story,  originally  an  independent  composition,  is  inserted 
with  so  little  care  that  she  speaks  of  herself  as  a son 
and  not  as  a daughter  of  Eve.  There  is  a much  worse 
instance  in  the  case  of  the  Shipman.  At  the  opening 
of  his  tale,  in  discoursing  upon  the  extravagance  of 
women  he  identifies  himself  with  them,  and  in  fact 
assigns  himself  to  their  sex  by  calling  them  “ us  ” and 
“ we.”  This  has  made  some  modern  editors  feel  the  ne- 
cessity of  enclosing  his  words  in  quotation  marks,  though 
there  is  nothing  in  the  original  to  indicate  that  the 
sentiments  expressed  are  to  be  ascribed  to  any  one  but 
himself.  It  looks,  indeed,  as  if  there  had  been  an  inten- 
tion originally  to  give  the  story  to  the  Wife  of  Bath. 
Again,  the  Reeve  is  represented  as  resenting  the  Miller’s 
tale  because  among  his  other  occupations  he  practised 
the  craft  of  a carpenter.  But  there  is  a regular  carpen- 
ter among  the  company  of  pilgrims.  If  there  were  any 
one  specially  entitled  to  exhibit  indignation,  it  would 
be  he ; but  not  a word  is  uttered  by  him  in  the  way  of 
expostulation.  It  is,  again,  a legitimate  assumption  that 


436  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

Chaucer  intended  originally  to  put  a prose  narrative  in 
the  mouth  of  the  Man  of  Law.  The  legendary  story 
of  Constance  which  is  assigned  him  is  the  one  instance 
of  absolute  incongruity  found  in  this  work  between  the 
character  of  the  narrator  and  that  of  the  narrative.  The 
remark  made  by  him  in  the  prologue  to  his  tale  is  real- 
ly decisive  on  this  point.  After  speaking  of  Chaucer 
himself,  and  of  various  poems  which  the  latter  had  writ- 
ten— a number  of  which,  by  the  way,  he  never  actually 
wrote,  so  far  as  we  know — he  adds, 

“ I speak  in  prose  and  let  him  rymes  make.” 

In  order  to  get  a satisfactory  sense  out  of  this  line,  in 
connection  with  the  tale  that  follows,  it  has  to  be 
assumed  that  the  Man  of  Law  meant  to  say  that  it 
was  his  business  to  speak  in  prose  in  the  practice  of 
his  profession.  But  that  was  the  business  of  everybody 
in  every  profession.  Chaucer  himself,  in  the  discharge  of 
his  duties  as  controller  of  the  customs,  could  not  have 
been  in  the  habit  of  going  about  and  reciting  verses. 
There  was  therefore  no  reason  for  the  Man  of  Law  to 
assume  any  special  distinction  for  himself  in  this  re- 
spect, so  long,  especially,  as  immediately  after  this  proc- 
lamation of  his  devotion  to  prose  he  set  out  to  deliver 
more  than  a thousand  lines  of  verse.  But  if  we  assume 
that  it  was  a prose  tale  which  the  poet  in  his  original 
scheme  had  it  in  mind  for  him  to  repeat,  difficulties  of 
all  kinds  disappear. 

Additional  illustrations  of  the  unfinished  state  in 
which  the  work  of  Chaucer  was  left  can  sometimes  be 
found  also  in  the  unfinished  condition  of  portions  of  his 


INCOMPLETENESS  OF  THE  ‘HOUSE  OF  FAME’  437 

work  which  purports  to  be  complete.  In  the  second 
part  of  the  Squire’s  tale  it  has  been  shown  that  this 
state  of  things  is  clearly  due  to  the  poet  himself.  But 
in  the  case  of  other  productions,  such  as  the  ‘ House 
of  Fame,’  it  may  be  due  to  the  poorness  of  the  manu- 
scripts that  have  been  preserved.  In  that  poem  there 
are  three  or  four  places  where  it  is  hard  to  make  either 
sense  or  grammar  as  the  text  now  stands;  but  all  that 
is  necessary  to  mention  here  is  the  perceptible  gap  that 
occurs  after  line  1943.  The  passage  where  it  is  found 
contains  the  description  of  the  house  of  Rumor.  In 
one  of  the  two  surviving  manuscripts  there  is  a blank 
left  after  this  line ; in  the  other  a half-line  is  found. 
With  one  slight  correction  in  the  orthography  this  lat- 
ter reads  as  follows : 

“ For  the  swough  and  for  the  twygges 
This  house  was  also  ful  of  gyges, 

And  also  ful  eke  of  chirkynges, 

As  ful  this,  lo.” 

Here  the  comparison  stops  abruptly.  It  was  never 
carried  out  to  completion,  or,  if  so,  any  manuscripts 
containing  it  have  never  come  down.  The  printed  text 
of  Caxton — which  is  followed  by  Thynne’s — attempted 
to  get  over  the  difficulty  by  inserting  in  place  of  the 
half-line  this  spurious  line, 

“ And  of  many  other  werkinges.” 

This  is  as  unsuited  to  the  context  as  it  is  weak  in  ex- 
pression. Also,  found  twice  in  the  passage  quoted,  has 
there,  as  it  frequently  has  in  Chaucer,  the  meaning  of 
“as”;  otherwise,  indeed,  we  should  have  in  the  third 


438  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

line  two  words — also  and  eke — with  precisely  the  same 
meaning.  We  can  feel  confident  that  the  line  in  Cax- 
ton’s  text  came  not  from  the  poet’s  hand,  but  from  him 
who  added  the  dozen  spurious  lines  with  which  the 
work  has  until  lately  been  made  to  conclude. 

It  seems  hardly  fair  to  hold  a copyist  responsible  for 
this  state  of  things.  One  feels  that  it  must  have  been 
due  to  the  poet’s  own  neglect,  to  his  disposition  to 
leave  to  after-hours  the  correction  of  passages  which  he 
never  found  time  or  took  occasion  to  correct.  There 
is  satisfactory  evidence  that  the  perfection  his  work 
attained  was  the  result  of  patient  labor.  It  would, 
accordingly,  be  no  wonder  if  there  should  be  found 
some  places  which  his  ultimate  revision  never  reached. 
Yet  there  is  a difficulty  about  even  this  view  from  the 
way  Chaucer  himself  speaks  of  his  own  productions. 
No  other  inference  could  well  be  drawn  from  the  lan- 
guage he  uses  than  that  he  regarded  the  ‘ House  of 
Fame,’  for  instance,  as  perfectly  complete.  If  so,  that 
completed  form  of  it  has  certainly  perished.  But  it 
has  too  many  companions  of  the  same  kind  for  us  to 
entertain  confidence  that  it  ever  existed.  It  is  impossible 
now  to  discover  what  were  the  causes  which  brought 
about  the  results  that  have  been  described.  The  un- 
finished condition  in  which  so  much  of  Chaucer’s  work 
was  left  may  have  been  due  to  the  pressure  of  duties 
from  which  he  could  not  escape.  His  life  was  a busy 
one,  and  literature  during  much  of  it  could  only  have 
been  an  occasional  avocation.  It  may  have  been  due 
to  a sanguine  disposition  which  led  him  to  project  un- 
dertakings which  he  had  neither  the  requisite  leisure 


GENERAL  CONCLUSIONS 


439 


nor  strength  to  accomplish,  or  to  a procrastinating  habit 
of  mind  that  submitted  easily  to  the  necessity  or  desi- 
rability of  deferring  the  performance  of  a duty  to  a 
time  that  never  came.  Or,  finally,  it  may  have  been 
due  to  weariness  of  his  subject,  and  even  to  positive 
disgust  with  it.  Whether  due  to  one  of  these  causes 
or  to  all  of  them,  or  to  some  cause  not  as  yet  pointed 
out,  the  fragmentary  state  in  which  many  of  the  works 
of  Chaucer  have  come  down  is  an  undeniable  fact.  It 
is  a result  there  is  every  reason  to  deplore.  Had  the 
‘Canterbury  Tales,’  in  particular,  been  completed  on 
the  scale  on  which  they  were  projected,  we  should 
have  had  a picture  of  the  entire  social  and  religious  life 
of  the  fourteenth  century,  and  to  some  extent  of  its 
political  life,  such  as  has  never  been  drawn  of  any  cen- 
tury before  or  since  in  the  history  of  the  world. 

In  the  foregoing  pages  I have  sought  to  show  that 
Chaucer  was  not  only  a great  artist,  but  that  he  became 
so  at  the  cost  of  time  and  labor ; that  in  hifn,  standing 
at  the  fountain-head  of  English  literature,  the  critical 
spirit  was  as  highly  developed  as  the  creative ; that  the 
course  he  pursued  in  any  given  case  was  no  accident  of 
momentary  impulse,  nor  was  it  due  to  unquestioning 
acquiescence  in  what  was  then  generally  accepted  ; that, 
on  the  contrary,  it  was  the  fruit  of  ripened  reflection  and 
deliberate  choice ; that  it  caused  him  in  consequence  to 
censure  in  some  cases  what  his  contemporaries  approved, 
and  continued  to  approve  ; that  it  led  him  in  other  cases 
to  condemn  at  last  what  he  had  at  first  been  disposed 
to  deem  praiseworthy.  Contrary  as  are  these  views 
to  those  once  universally  held,  the  evidence  presented 


440 


CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 


hardly  permits  us  even  to  doubt  their  truth.  If  we 
need  further  confirmation,  we  can  find  it  in  one  marked 
change  that  took  place  in  his  literary  methods.  In  his 
earlier  work  he  introduces  constantly  characters  that 
are  merely  personifications  of  qualities  or  acts  or  senti- 
ments. In  so  doing  he  followed  the  practice  of  his  im- 
mediate predecessors.  As  he  advanced  in  knowledge 
and  judgment  and  taste  he  shook  himself  free  from  the 
trammels  of  this  temporary  fashion.  He  abandoned  al- 
most entirely  the  field  of  abstractions  in  which  the  men 
of  his  time  delighted,  and  in  which  his  contemporary 
Langland  was  contented  to  remain.  For  the  shadowy 
beings  who  dwell  in  the  land  of  types  he  substituted 
living  me,n  and  women ; for  the  allegorical  representa- 
tion of  feelings  and  beliefs,  the  direct  outpourings  of 
passion.  Changes  of  method  such  as  these  are  not  the 
result  of  freak  or  accident.  Chaucer,  accordingly,  must 
stand  or  fall  not  merely  by  our  opinion  of  what  he  did, 
but  by  our  knowledge  that  what  he  did  was  done  con- 
sciously. The  responsibility  for  his  words  and  acts 
cannot  be  shifted  from  him  to  his  age.  We  can  ac- 
cept the  convictions  he  entertained  or  we  can  reject 
them  ; but  we  can  never  dismiss  them  as  not  being  in  a 
genuine  sense  his  convictions.  He  is  not  merely  a man 
of  genius  acting  under  the  influence  of  an  inspiration 
to  which  he  commits  himself  blindly  and  unreservedly. 
He  is  a force  that  must  be  reckoned  with  in  all  critical 
discussions  of  the  art  he  practised. 

It  is  impossible  to  take  final  leave  of  the  poet  with- 
out some  notice  of  what  is  on  the  whole  the  most  pro- 
nounced characteristic  of  his  style.  This  is  the  uni- 


NATURALNESS  OF  HIS  LANGUAGE 


441 


formly  low  level  upon  which  he  moves.  There  is  no 
other  author  in  our  tongue  who  has  clung  so  closely 
and  so  persistently  to  the  language  of  common  life. 
Such  a characteristic  appealed  strongly  to  the  men  who 
led  the  revolt  against  the  artificial  diction  that  prevailed 
in  the  poetry  of  the  last  century.  It  attracted  in  par- 
ticular the  attention  of  Wordsworth.  The  course  of  his 
predecessor  he  cited  as  an  authority  for  the  one  which 
he  himself  adopted.  He  cannot,  it  is  true,  be  always 
congratulated  upon  the  way  in  which  he  himself  carried 
his  theories  into  practice.  The  invariable  felicity  of 
Chaucer  in  treating  the  simplest  themes  is  made  espe- 
cially noteworthy  by  the  frequent  failures  that  attend- 
ed the  similar  efforts  of  one  of  the  greatest  of  his 
successors.  For  the  acknowledged  mastery  which  is 
conceded  in  this  particular  to  the  early  poet  means 
much  more  than  at  first  sight  it  seems.  It  is  difficult, 
says  Horace,  in  a passage  the  precise  purport  of  which 
has  been  much  disputed,  to  say  common  things  with 
propriety.  In  a sense  which  has  frequently  been  given 
to  these  words  there  is  no  question  as  to  the  unri- 
valled skill  displayed  by  Chaucer.  There  have  been 
many  men  of  genius  who  have  been  able  to  say  grand 
things  grandly.  To  the  fewest  of  the  few  is  reserved 
the  achievement  of  the  far  harder  task  of  discoursing  of 
mean  things  without  discoursing  meanly  ; of  recounting 
the  prosaic  events  of  life  without  becoming  prosaic  one’s 
self ; of  narrating  them  in  the  plainest  terms,  and  yet 
investing  them  with  poetic  charm.  It  is  in  the  power 
of  genius  only  to  accomplish  this  at  all ; but  it  is  by  no 
means  in  the  power  of  all  genius. 


442  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

It  is  because  he  stayed  so  persistently  on  these  low 
levels  that  Chaucer  was  enabled  to  combine  with  ap- 
parent ease  characteristics  and  methods  that  are  often 
deemed  incompatible.  His  words  are  the  more  effec- 
tive because  their  very  simplicity  makes  upon  the  mind 
the  impression  of  understatement.  The  imagination  of 
the  reader  fills  in  and  exaggerates  the  details  which 
have  been  left  half-told.  It  is  owing  to  this  restraint 
of  expression  that  whatever  he  says  is  not  only  at  all 
times  and  in  all  places  free  from  literary  vulgarity,  it 
never  loses  the  dignity  that  belongs,  as  well  in  letters  as 
in  life,  to  consummate  high-breeding.  There  is  an  ex- 
quisite urbanity  in  his  manner  which  gives  it  an  attrac- 
tiveness as  pervasive  and  yet  as  indefinable  as  that  which 
the  subtle  evanescent  flavor  of  arch  allusion  imparts  to 
his  matter.  I do  not  mean  by  this  to  convey  the  idea 
that  Chaucer  abounds  in  ornate  and  brilliant  passages, 
or  that  he  is  constantly  saying  remarkable  things  in  a 
remarkable  way.  It  is  simply  that  in  dealing  with  the 
common  he  is  never  commonplace.  However  trivial 
may  be  the  theme  upon  which  he  is  discoursing,  his 
language  always  retains  the  air  of  distinction.  As  a 
further  result  of  this  absolute  naturalness,  he  is  enabled 
to  pass  from  the  gravest  to  the  lightest  topics  without 
giving  the  reader  the  slightest  sensation  of  shock.  The 
border-land  between  simplicity  and  silliness  is  both  a 
narrow  and  a dangerous  one.  It  is  beset  with  pitfalls  for 
the  unwary,  and  it  is  only  the  greatest  masters  that  can 
traverse  it  with  impunity.  Chaucer  treads  its  limited 
confines  with  a liberty  which  few,  even  of  men  of  loftiest 
genius,  have  ventured  to  take.  His  freedom,  indeed, 


NATURALNESS  OF  HIS  LANGUAGE  443 

verges  at  times  upon  audacity.  In  the  Knight’s  tale, 
for  illustration,  following  close  upon  the  high-wrought 
description  of  the  great  tournament  comes  the  recital  of 
the  methods  taken  by  the  physicians  to  save  the  life  of 
the  victor  in  the  struggle.  The  failure  they  meet  with 
is  told  in  the  simplest  terms.  Their  efforts  were  fruit- 
less because  they  received  no  help  from  nature.  Sud- 
denly the  poet  interposes  his  own  comment  on  the  use- 
lessness, under  such  conditions,  of  the  medical  art  in 
words  like  these  : 

“ And  certainly  there'  nature  will  not  wirche,^ 

Farewell  physic ! Go  bear  the  man  to  church  !” 

With  this  quaint  expression  of  personal  opinion,  he 
passes  at  once  to  the  pathetic  parting-scene  between  the 
dying  lover  and  the  woman  for  whom  he  is  about  to  die. 
Yet  these  rapid  transitions  do  not  produce  upon  the 
mind  any  effect  of  inappropriateness  or  incongruity. 
Tears  and  laughter  stand  side  by  side  in  Chaucer’s 
verse  as  they  do  in  life.  The  gay,  and  at  times  almost 
comic,  element  that  appears  in  the  midst  of  exciting  and 
even  sorrowful  scenes  never  jars  upon  the  feelings.  It 
seems  to  us  no  more  out  of  place  than  the  figures  on  the 
exteriors  of  stately  cathedrals,  where  antic  forms  grin 
from  every  gargoyle,  and  imps  are  perched  upon  every 
coign  of  vantage,  as  if  to  impress  upon  the  beholder 
how  near  the  comedy  of  life  stands  to  its  tragedy ; how 
inextricably  involved  is  the  tie  between  its  lightest  and 
most  mocking  moods  and  its  profoundest  mysteries. 

I am  not  claiming  for  Chaucer  that  he  is  one  of  the 


' Where. 


2 Work. 


444  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

few  supremest  poets  of  the  race.  His  station  is  near 
them,  but  he  is  not  of  them.  Yet,  whatever  may  be  the 
rank  we  accord  him  among  the  writers  of  the  world's 
chief  literatures,  the  position  he  holds  in  his  own  litera- 
ture is  one  that  can  no  longer  be  shaken  by  criticism  or 
disturbed  by  denial.  Time  has  set  its  final  seal  upon 
the  verdict  of  his  own  age,  and  the  refusal  to  acknowl- 
edge his  greatness  has  now  no  effect  upon  the  opinion 
we  have  of  the  poet  himself,  but  upon  our  opinion  of 
those  who  are  unable  to  appreciate  his  poetry.  To  one 
alone  among  the  writers  of  our  own  literature  is  he  in- 
ferior. Nor  even  by  him  has  he  been  surpassed  in  every 
way.  There  are  characteristics  in  which  he  has  no  supe- 
rior, and,  it  may  be  right  to  add,  in  which  he  has  no  equal. 
Nor  is  the  supremacy  accorded  him  in  these  respects  due 
to  any  consideration  of  his  antiquity ; though  it  can  be 
easily  admitted  that  to  appreciate  fully  what  Chaucer 
did  for  English  literature  we  must  first  read  the  works 
of  his  predecessors  and  contemporaries.  It  might  not 
be  altogether  amiss  to  add  to  the  list  several  of  his  suc- 
cessors. There  is  one  particular  in  which  his  merits 
in  reference  to  the  literature  are  simply  transcendent. 
He  overcame  its  natural  tendencies  to  a dull  serious- 
ness which  could  sometimes  be  wrought  into  vigorous 
invective,  but  had  little  power  to  fuse  the  spiritual  ele- 
ment of  poetry  with  the  purely  intellectual.  Into  the 
stolid  English  nature,  which  may  be  earnest,  but  evinces 
an  almost  irresistible  inclination  towards  heaviness,  he 
brought  a lightness,  a grace,  a delicacy  of  fancy,  a re- 
fined sportiveness  even  upon  the  most  unrefined  themes, 
which  had  never  been  known  before  save  on  the  most 


APPARENT  ABSENCE  OF  EFFORT  445 

infinitesimal  scale,  and  has  not  been  known  too  much 
since. 

Nor  is  this  the  only  distinctive  characteristic  in  which 
Chaucer  excels.  There  is  no  other  English  author  so 
absolutely  free,  not  merely  from  effort,  but  from  the  re- 
motest suggestion  of  effort.  Shakspeare  mounts  far 
higher ; yet  with  him  there  are  times  when  we  seem  to 
hear  the  flapping  of  the  wings,  to  be  vaguely  conscious 
that  he  is  lashing  his  imagination  to  put  forth  increased 
exertions.  But  in  Chaucer  no  slightest  trace  of  strain  is 
to  be  detected.  As  on  the  lower  levels  the  line  never 
labors,  so  on  the  higher  he  never  makes  the  impression 
that  he  is  trying  to  make  an  impression.  It  is  the  abso- 
lute ease  with  which  he  rises  that  often  prevents  our 
perceiving  how  rapidly  he  has  risen.  We  have  suddenly 
been  transported  into  another  atmosphere  without  the 
least  consciousness  on  our  part  of  the  extent  of  the  dis- 
tance traversed.  In  this  the  poet  is  like  his  own  picture 
of  F^e.  At  one  moment  the  goddess  seems  to  the 
vis^or  at  her  temple  to  be  hardly  the  length  of  a cubit. 
In  an  insfant,  and  almost  before  he  is  aware  of  what  has 
taken  place,  she  stands  before  his  wondering  eyes  with 
her  feet  resting  upon  the  earth  and  her  head  touching 
the  heights  of  highest  heaven.  Nor  is  it  alone  for  the 
naturalness  and  ease  which  results  from  this  union  of 
strength  and  simplicity  that  the  greatest  of  his  succes- 
sors have  delighted  to  honor  the  poet.  Full  as  willingly 
have  they  paid  homage  to  the  qualities  of  character  dis- 
played in  his  works  as  to  those  of  intellect.  In  perfect 
serenity  of  spirit  as  well  as  in  perfect  sanity  of  view;  in 
the  large-hearted  toleration  which  could  not  speak  bit- 


446  CHAUCER  AS  A LITERARY  ARTIST 

terly  even  of  the  vicious ; in  the.  gracious  worldliness 
which  never  hardened  into  the  callousness  of  insensibil- 
ity ; in  the  manly  tenderness  which  never  degenerated 
into  sentimentality ; in  the  repose  of  conscious  strength 
which  never  wearied  itself  or  worried  itself  in  striving 
for  effect; — in  all  of  these  characteristics,  the  royal  line 
of  English  poets  has  never  refused  to  acknowledge  the 
supremacy  of  him  whom  it  recognizes  as  its  founder. 


APPENDIX 


APPENDIX 


HE  interest  that  is  now  taken  in  Chaucer  is  so 


great  and  widespread  that  it  is  not  unreasonable 
to  hope  that  with  so  many  workers  in  the  field  dis- 
coveries of  importance  may  any  day  be  brought  to 
light.  During  the  time  in  which  the  preceding  pages 
have  been  going  through  the  press  two  or  three  addi- 
tions have  been  made  to  our  previous  knowledge  of  the 
poet’s  writings.  For  the  sake  of  bringing,  as  far  as  pos- 
sible, the  information  contained  in  this  work  up  to  date, 
I subjoin  in  this  appendix  certain  particulars  that  came 
too  late  to  be  inserted  in  their  proper  place. 

To  the  London  ‘Athenaeum’  of  April  4,  1891  (p. 
440),  the  indefatigable  Early-English  scholar  Professor 
Skeat  communicated  a hitherto  unknown  love-poem  of 
Chaucer’s,  which  he  had  discovered  in  a manuscript  be- 
longing to  the  Bodleian  Library.  It  is  of  a somewhat 
humorous  nature,  partaking  more  of  the  character  of 
vers  de  sociHe  than  of  the  expression  of  fervid  passion. 
It  is  in  the  form  of  a ballade  in  three  eight-line  stanzas, 
but  without  any  envoy.  Though  not  a great  poem,  it 
is  a good  one  of  its  kind,  and  is  so  distinctively  Chau- 
cerian in  its  manner  that  it  could  pretty  safely  be  im- 
puted to  him  even  without  the  authority  of  the  scribe. 
Fortunately  that  is  not  lacking.  The  evidence  in  favor 


III.— 29 


450 


APPENDIX 


of  its  genuineness  is  therefore  both  internal  and  exter- 
nal. It  should,  and  doubtless  will,  be  included  in  all 
future  editions  of  the  poet’s  works.  It  furnishes  an  ad- 
ditional number  to  the  titles  given  as  certainly  genuine 
on  p.  504  of  vol.  i.  and  p.  3 of  vol.  ii.  It  will  also  add 
twenty-four  lines  to  the  number  of  lines  given  on  the 
page  that  has  just  been  mentioned,  and  will  modify  the 
statements  made  on  pp.  308  and  309  of  vol.  iii. 

Furthermore,  the  statements  made  on  p.  207  of  vol. 
ii.  in  regard  to  the  writings  of  Granson  need  correction. 
To  vol.  xix.  of  ‘Romania’  (1890)  M.  Arthur  Piaget 
has  contributed  two  articles,  entitled  Oton  de  Granson 
et  scs  Poesies.  The  first  (p.  237  ff.)  contains  an  account 
of  Granson’s  life.  The  second  (p.  403  ff.)  contains  an 
account  of  his  poetry.  From  this  latter  it  appears  that 
the  poem  of  Chaucer  that  goes  under  the  name  of  the 
‘ Complaint  of  Venus  ’ is  made  up  of  three  distinct  and 
independent  ballades  of  Granson.  They  are  numbered 
respectively  in  the  second  article  as  the  sixth,  the  ninth, 
and  the  tenth  of  his  poems.  The  two  last  of  the  French 
ballades  are  in  general  translated  faithfully;  but  in  the 
case  of  the  first  there  is  a good  deal  of  variation  from 
the  original.  In  one  respect  there  is  a very  marked 
variation  throughout.  In  the  three  poems  of  Gran- 
son it  is  a man  who  speaks  and  who  celebrates  the 
woman  with  whom  he  is  in  love.  But  in  Chaucer’s  adap- 
tation this  has  been  entirely  reversed.  There  it  is  a 
woman  who  is  represented  as  speaking  in  praise  of  the 
man  she  loves. 

One  thing  more  M.  Piaget  establishes  very  clearly. 
He  points  out  that  there  is  no  ground  for  giving  to 


APPENDIX 


451 


Chaucer’s  poem  the  title  of  the  ‘Complaint  of  Venus.’ 
This,  indeed,  is  almost  self-evident.  Were  such  its 
proper  heading,  Venus  would  be  represented  according 
to  the  seventh  stanza  as  being  bound  in  her  own  snare, 
and  as  having  been  long  in  her  own  service.  The  title 
under  which  the  poem  has  regularly  gone  was  pretty 
certainly  the  work  of  the  scribes,  and  was  probably 
given  by  them  to  it  under  the  impression  that  it  was  a 
kind  of  counterpart  to  the  poem  called  the  ‘ Complaint 
of  Mars.’  This  revelation  of  the  original  sources  of  the 
poem  effectually  disposes  of  the  report — for  it  is  not 
stated  as  a fact — made  by  the  scribe  Shirley,  that  Gran- 
son  made  this  poem,  “ for  Venus  resembled  to  my  lady 
of  York  answering  the  ‘Complaint  of  Mars.’”  On  this 
point  M.  Piaget  shows  that  the  evidence  of  date  is  de- 
cisive. 

While  recognizing  the  great  obligation  which  all  stu- 
dents of  Chaucer  are  under  to  M.  Piaget  for  the  new 
information  contained  in  his  articles,  I am  inclined  to 
think  he  has  somewhat  misunderstood  Chaucer’s  state- 
ment in  the  envoy  to  this  piece,  in  which  the  poet  says 
that  he  has  followed  “word  byword”  his  original.  This 
he  most  assuredly  has  not  done  in  several  places.  But 
“ word  by  word  ” has  here  pretty  certainly  the  general 
sense  of  ‘ precisely,’  ‘ exactly  ’ ; and  what  Chaucer  means 
to  say  is  not  that  he  has  accurately  reproduced  the  lan- 
guage and  ideas  of  the  original,  but  the  “ curiosity  ” — 
that  is,  the  elaborate  and  intricate  arrangement  — of  its 
rymes. 

One  other  place  which  needs  correction  it  may  be 
well  to  point  out  also.  The  student  of  the  genuineness 


452  APPENDIX 

of  the  ‘ Romance  of  the  Rose  ’ Avill  observe  that  in  one 
place  the  appendix  corrects  a slight  error  made  in  the 
text.  In  the  latter  it  is  said  on  p.  92  of  vol.  ii.  that  the 
single  instance  of  variation  between  Chaucer  and  the 
translator  is  in  the  use  of  the  phrases  withouten  or  out 
of  dr cde^  but  that  even  this  is  not  important.  Unim- 
portant as  it  is,  the  results  of  the  revised  examination 
which  appear  on  p.  545  of  the  same  volume  show  that 
it  does  not  exist ; that  here  as  well  as  elsewhere  there  is 
exact  harmony  in  the  usage  of  the  two.  Withouten  drede 
is  found  in  the  ‘ Romance  of  the  Rose  ’ seven  times,  and 
in  Chaucer’s  writings  seventeen;  out  of  drede  is  corre- 
spondingly found  in  each  eight  times  and  twenty  times. 

The  statements  made  about  Seneca  on  p.  269  of  vol. 
ii.  also  need  modification.  The  words  which  Chaucer 
attributes  to  that  philosopher  in  the  Wife  of  Bath’s 
tale — 

“ Glad  poverte  is  an  honeste  thyng  certayn  ” — 327. 

are  a translation  of  a maxim  to  be  found  in  the  second 
of  Seneca’s  Epistles.  He  in  turn  professes  to  derive  it 
from  Epicurus.  Honesta  res  est  Iceta  paupertas  is  the 
original  Chaucer  had  in  mind. 

It  may  be  added  also  that  the  volume  mentioned  in 
the  foot-note  to  p.  154  of  vol.  iii.  has  been  received 
since  that  page  Avent  to  press.  As  Avas  perhaps  to  be 
expected,  the  work  turns  out  to  be  one  Avhich  had  noth- 
ing to  do  with  Chaucer  beyond  the  fact  that  it  assumed 
his  name  and  the  title  of  his  principal  work. 

I would  furthermore  suggest  that  the.  town  of  Retters 
mentioned  on  p.  57  of  vol.  i.  is  pretty  certainly  Rethel,  in 
the  present  department  of  Ardennes.  The  name  of  this 


APPENDIX 


453 


place  appears  in  Froissart  as  Reters,  Rethiers,  and  at 
least  once  as  Retheirs.  The  first  is  the  form  which  is 
most  commonly  found.  What  must  have  been  an  earlier 
form,  Reterst,  is  said  to  occur  in  the  later  chronicler, 
Monstrelet.  The  town  is  in  Champagne,  a few  miles 
to  the  northeast  of  Rheims,  and  was  part  of  the  region 
overrun  by  the  English  army  in  the  invasion  of  France 
which  began  in  1359.  During  the  siege  of  Rheims 
which  then  took  place,  the  district  of  Reters,  accord- 
ing to  Froissart,  was  frequently  ravaged  by  bodies  of 
English  soldiers,  and  this,  he  tells  us,  continued  to  be 
done  by  the  troops  left  behind  after  Edward  himself 
had  moved  on  with  the  main  army.  The  town  of  Reters 
itself  was  fortified.  As  it  was  before  a place  with  this 
name  that  Chaucer,  previous  to  his  own  capture,  saw  the 
Lord  Scrope,  it  is  in  perfect  harmony  with  every  require- 
ment that  this  should  be  the  one  of  which  he  spoke  in 
his  deposition. 

Finally  I have  to  add  the  correction  of  a somewhat 
gross  oversight.  From  the  list  of  preterites  and  past 
participles  given  in  vol.  i.,  pp.  402-404,  as  ryming  to- 
gether, four  instances  of  had  as  a past  participle  are  to 
be  struck  out.  These  occur  in  ' Anelida  and  Arcite,’  1. 
37,  in  ‘ Troilus  and  Cressida,’  iv.,  1688,  and  in  the  Clerk’s 
tale,  lines  520  and  722.  In  all  these  cases  had  is  a pre- 
terite. All  statements  of  number  into  which  these  in- 
stances enter  need  modification  accordingly.  In  the 
note  referring  to  Gower’s  usage  had  and  fought  are  also 
to  be  struck  from  the  list  of  examples. 


INDEX 


ABC,  Chaucer’s  (No.  64), 
added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Stow,  i.  443 ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. ; 
source  of,  ii.  207  ; 

Chaucer’s  religious  opinions 
not  shown  in,  ii.  485  ; 
versification  of,  iii.  308. 
Abduction, 

three  instances  of,  cited,  i.  76- 
80. 

Abelard, 
ii.  290. 

Academy,  The, 
cited,  ii.  45  n.,  72  n.,  221  n.,  iii. 
311  n. 

Achilleis. 

(See  Statius?) 

Achilles  Tatius, 

Loves  of  Clitophon  and  Leu- 
cippus, iii.  1 15. 

Acta  Sanctorum. 

(See  Lives  of  the  Saints.) 
Adam,  his  Scrivener,  Chaucer’s 
Address  to  (No.  61), 
quoted,  i.  229  ; 

the  danger  indicated  by,  i.  233 ; 
first  printed  by  Stow,  i.  441  ; 
its  genuineness  accepted  by 
Tyrwhitt,  i.  475 ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 
Addison,  Joseph, 

his  text  altered  by  Chalmers, 
i.  235; 

on  Chaucer,  iii.  95-97,  104; 
allusions,  iii.  100,  150,  158, 
Adventurer,  The, 
quoted,  iii.  1 58. 


.^lian, 

Varia  Historia,  ii.  305. 
.iTlsculapius, 
ii-  393- 

Agathon,  unknown  author, 
ii.  400-402. 

Age  of  Chaucer, 
references  to,  in  House  of 
Fame,  i.  33 ; 

in  Legend  of  Good  Women,  i. 

34; 

in  Epistle  to  Scogan,  i.  36 ; 
in  Complaint  of  Venus,  i. 
40; 

by  Occleve,  i.  42  ; 
by  Gower,  i.  43-48  ; 
as  shown  in  the  Occleve  por- 
trait, i.  50 ; 

as  inferred  from  his  selection 
for  diplomatic  missions,  i. 
71. 

Akenside,  Mark, 

inscription  for  a statue  of 
Chaucer,  iii.  237. 

Alanus  de  Insulis, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  344-352, 
419,  iii.  411  ; 

De  Pla7ictu  Natures,  ii.  345  ff ; 
A7iticla2tdianus , sive  de  Officio 
Viri  Boni  et  Perfecti,  ii. 
348  ff; 

Doctri7iale  Afinus,  ii.  351. 

‘ Alas,’ 

use  of  the  word,  as  a test  of 
the  genuineness  of  the  Ro- 
mance of  the  Rose,  ii.  91, 

541,  542. 


456 


INDEX 


‘Alas  that  I was  born,’ 

Chaucer’s  frequent  use  of  the 
phrase,  ii.  84,  85. 

Albertano  da  Brescia, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  384 ; 

Liber  Consolationis  et  Consiliz, 
1.  321,  ii.  211,  271,  384; 

Liber  de  Amore,  etc.,  ii.  384 ; 
De  Arte  Loqiiezidi  et  Taceztdi, 

ii.  384. 

Albricus  Philosophus, 
Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii,  381,  382  ; 
De  Deorttjzt  Imaginibus,  i i.  38 1 . 

Alcestis,  The  Story  of, 

i.  261,  411,  417, 

ii.  257,  293. 

Alchemy, 

Chaucer’s  acquaintance  with 
the  literature  of,  ii.  391-393, 

iii.  292 ; 

his  contempt  for  its  preten- 
sions, ii.  501. 

Aldgate, 

Chaucer’s  dwelling-house  at, 

i.  73- 

Aldrich,  Dr.  Henry, 

iii.  81. 

Alexander  the  Great,  legendary 
cycle  of, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  303,  304. 

Alexandreid  of  Gualtier, 

ii-  303.353-355.412. 

Alfred  the  Great, 

i.  182. 

Alhazen,  Arabian  astronomer, 

ii.  391. 

Alkabucius,  Arabian  astrono- 
mer, 

ii.  398. 

Alliterative  verse, 
i-  333. 

ii.  105  n., 

iii.  20,  50,  299,  300. 

Almagest,  The,  of  Ptolemy, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  186,  395 


Alone  Walking  (No.  51), 
added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Stow,  i.  440 ; 
Tyrwhitt  on  its  genuineness, 
i.  480 ; 

classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 

‘ Also  mote  I thee,’ 
use  of  the  phrase,  as  a test  of 
the  genuineness  of  the  Ro- 
mance of  the  Rose,  ii.  loi, 

550-  ^ . 

Ambrose,  Saint, 

ii.  388. 

American  Academy,  Memoirs 
of  the, 

cited,  i.  337  n. 

Ames,  Joseph, 

Typographical  Antiquities 
cited,  ii.  359  n. 

Amicitia,  De. 

(See  Cicero?) 

Amorous  Complaint,  An  (No. 

76), 

added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Skeat,  i.452,  504; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  503  n. 
Anachronisms,  Chaucer’s, 

iii.  375-380. 

Anderson,  Dr.  James, 

imitation  of  Chaucer  in  his 
periodical,  the  Bee,  iii.  131. 
Anderson,  Dr.  Robert, 

reprints  Tyrwhitt’s  text,  iii. 
255. 

Anelida  and  Arcite  (No.  14), 
its  reference  to  the  custom  of 
reciting  verses,  i.  228  ; 
textual  errors  illustrated  from, 
i.  244,254; 

printed  by  Caxton,  i.  265  ; 
named  in  Lydgate’s  list,  i. 

421; 

named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.  432  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. ; 
illustrations  from,  of  the  tests 
of  genuineness,  i.  402,  ii.  73, 
129,  141, 144; 

illustrations  from,  of  the  inac- 
curacy of  Chaucer’s  scholar- 
ship, ii.  182,  184,  188  ; 


INDEX  457 


books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  ii.  226,  240,  253, 
402,  404; 

Miss  Barrett’s  modernization 
of,  iii,  217,  227  ; 

versification  of,  iii.  309,  31 1 n. ; 
incompleteness  of,  iii.  431. 
Angle,  Sir  Guichard  d’,  com- 
missioner, 

i.  69. 

Anglo-Norman  Chronicle. 

(See  Trivet,  Nico/as.) 
Annotation  of  Chaucer’s  works, 
contributions  to,  by  Speght, 

i.  270,  273 ; 

by  F.  Thynne,  i.  272-274  ; 
by  Junius,  i.  281  ; 
by  Bagford,  i.  282  ; 
by  Urry,  i.  284 ; 
by  T.  Thomas,  i.  291  ; 
by  Morell,  i.  295,  297  ; 
by  Dr.  Johnson,  proposed,  i. 
298,  299 ; 

by  Tyrwhitt,  i.  302-305,  307  ; 
by  Wright,  i.  319,  320  ; 
by  Jephson,  i.  325  ; 
by  Bell,  i.  326,  327  ; 
by  Morris,  i.  327  ; 
need  of  further  study,  i.  350- 
353- 

A 7iticlaiidia7ncs. 

(See  Ala7i7is  de  Tisidisi) 
Antiquarian  interest  in  Chaucer, 
iii.  241  ff,  245,  257. 

Apollonius  Rhodius, 

ii.  259,  260. 

Arg07ia7itica. 

(See  Valerius  Flaccusi) 
Ariadne,  The  Story  of, 

ii.  251. 

Ariosto, 

iii.  205. 

Aristotle, 

Chaucer’s  ignorance  of,  in  the 
original,  ii.  193,  387  ; 
reference  to,  in  the  Prologue, 

ii.  197; 

Shakspeare’s  anachronistic 
reference  to,  iii.  378  ; 
allusions,  ii.  366,  390, 391. 


Arms,  coat  of,  Chaucer’s  sup- 
posed, 
i.  162. 

Armstrong,  Dr.  John, 
on  imitations  of  Chaucer  and 
Spenser,  iii.  130,  1 31. 

Arnold,  Matthew, 
assertion  about  Addison,  iii. 
97  n. ; 

comparison  of  Villon  with 
Chaucer,  iii.  362. 

Arnoldus  Villanovanus,  or  “Ar- 
nold of  the  New  Town,” 
Rosarhmi  Philosophoru77i,  ii. 

393. 

Art, 

controversy  as  to  the  province 
of,  iii.  344; 

Chaucer’s  view  of  the  rela- 
tion of,  to  morality,  iii.  347- 

353; 

defects  of  Chaucer’s,  on  the 
intellectual  side,  iii.  364- 

375; 

Chaucer’s  indifference  to  fact, 
iii- 375-391- 
Art  of  Love. 

(See  Ovid) 

Arte  Loque7idi  et  Tace7idi,  De. 

(See  Alberta7io  da  Brescia) 
Artist,  Literary,  Chaucer  as  a. 
(See  Table  of  Co7ite7its,  chap, 
viii) 

Arthur,  Prince,  legendary  cycle 
of, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  303,  304, 
315,  316,  368; 

sceptical  attitude  of  Chaucer 
towards,  ii.  496. 

Asceticism, 

Chaucer’s  aversion  to,  ii.  535, 

536. 

Ascham,  Roger, 
styles  Chaucer  the  English 
Homer,  iii.  42 ; 
on  blank  verse,  iii.  49. 
Ashmole,  Elias, 

on  Chaucer’s  attitude  towards 
alchemy,  ii.  502. 


458 


INDEX 


‘ As  I guess/ 

use  of  the  phrase,  as  a test  of 
the  genuineness  of  the  Ro- 
mance of  the  Rose,  ii.  99, 
548,  549. 

Assembly  of  Ladies  (No.  15), 
mentioned  by  Leland,i.  140; 
named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.  432  ; 
its  genuineness  denied  by 
Tyrwhitt,  i.  475 ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 
Assonant  ryme, 
as  a test  of  genuineness,  i. 
375.  394-398.  ii.  58.  59- 
Astrolabe,  The  Conclusions  of 
the  (No.  16), 

autobiographic  material  in,  i. 
loi  ; 

mentioned  by  Leland,  i.  140, 

145; 

its  prose,  i.  205,  208  ; 

Brae’s  Appendix  to,  cited,  i. 
308  ; 

named  in  Lydgate’s  list,  i.420; 
omitted  by  the  early  printers, 

i.  429 ; 

named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.  432  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. ; 
books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  ii.  397  ff ; 
Chaucer’s  opinions  as  shown 
in,  ii.  498,  iii.  285  ; 
incompleteness  of,  iii.  431. 
Astrology,  judicial, 

Chaucer’s  attitude  towards, 

ii.  497-499- 

Astronomy  and  its  literature, 
Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  ii. 
395-399- 

Athenaeum,  The  (London), 
discovery  of  Cecilia  Chaum- 
paigne  deed  of  release  an- 
nounced in,  i.  74 ; 
cited,  i.  1 19  n.,  ii.  9 n.,  409  n. 
Atiteris, 
i.245. 

Atterbury,  Francis, 
iii.  242. 

Attorney,  Letters  of, 
given  by  Chaucer,  i.  70. 


Attribution  of  works  to  Chau- 
cer, 

reasons  for,  i.  364-366. 

Aubrey,  John, 

sketch  of  Chaucer’s  life,  i. 
159,179. 

Augustine,  Saint, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  297-299, 

383.  388 ; 

De  Civitate  Dei,  ii.  298  ; 

Sermo  cccliii,  ii.  299  n. ; 
allusion,  ii.  277. 

Aiireolus  Theophrasti  Liber  de 
Nuptiis. 

(See  Theophrasttisb) 
Authorities,  Citation  of, 

customary  in  Chaucer’s  time, 

ii-194,  195,  233; 

his  practice  as  to,  ii.  413-41 5, 
iii.  420-429. 

Authors  and  reviewers. 

Antagonism  of,  as  old  as  liter- 
ature, iii.  283. 

Autograph,  Chaucer’s, 

Disappearance  of  all  official 
documents  bearing,  i.  118, 
1 19. 

Avicenna,  medical  writer, 
ii-  393.  394- 

Bacon,  Lord, 

on  Latin  translations,  iii.  82, 
83,  140. 

allusion,  ii.  247. 

Bacon,  Roger, 

ii.  277. 

Bagford,  John, 
i.  162,  282. 

Balboa, 

Keats’s  error  as  to,  ii.  191. 
Bale,  John, 

his  life  of  Chaucer,  and  refer- 
ences to,  i.  132, 133,  148, 149, 
158,  467,  ii.  169,  iii.  35,  36, 
406. 

Ballades,  Chaucer’s, 

iii.  308,  309,  310,  312, 316. 
Bancks,  J., 

on  change  in  language,  iii.  143. 


INDEX 


459 


Banquet,  The. 

(See  F/ato.) 

Barbour,  John, 

the  tests  of  genuineness  illus- 
trated from,  ii.  37,  50,  93, 
100,  1 12,  1 13, 1 16,  156,  544  ff ; 
estimate  of,  by  later  Scotch 
critics,  iii.  15. 

Barclay,  Alexander, 
iii.  305. 

Barrett,  Miss. 

(See  Brownmg,  Mrs.  E.  B.) 

Baskerville,  John, 
iii.  159. 

Battle  Abbey  Roll, 

i.  163. 

Beaumont,  Francis, 
letter  to  Speght,  i.  271,  273, 
442,  iii.  44,  59,  352; 
allusion,  iii.  66. 

Beauveau,  Pierre,  Seigneur  de, 
statement  as  to  author  of  the 
Filostrato,  ii.  235. 

Becanus,  Joannes  Goropius, 

ii.  440,  443. 

Bech,  M., 

article  in  Anglia,  ii.  186, 188  n., 
26on.,  28rn.,  3i4n. 

Becon,  Thomas, 
quoted,  ii.  321. 

Bee,  The, 

iii.  131,  192. 

Bell,  Robert, 

his  edition  of  Chaucer’s  poet- 
ical works,  i.  32i;-327,  ii.  10, 
279  n.,  386  n. ; 

poems  added  by,  i.  449-451  ; 
spurious  pieces  included  by, 
1.478; 

joins  in  the  last  of  the  mod- 
ernizations of  Chaucer,  iii. 
217  ff. 

Belle  Dame  sans  Mercy,  La 
(No.  13), 

named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i. 

432; 

printed  by  Pynson,  i.  435  ; 
its  genuineness  denied  by 
Tyrwhitt,  i.  474 ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 


Bellona  and  Pallas, 
considered  as  one  by  Chaucer, 
ii.  184. 

Beneficiis,  De. 

(See  Seneca.) 

Benoit  de  Sainte-More, 

Ro7nan  de  Troye,  i.  303,  304, 
ii.  309  ff. 

Berkeley,  Sir  Edward, 
commissioner,  i.  70. 

Bernard  of  Clairvaux,  Saint, 
ChaucePs  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  388,  389  ; 
Tractatus  ad  Laiidem  Glorio- 
sce  Virginis  Mairis,  ii.  389. 
Bernardus  Silvestris, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  385  ; 
Megacosinos,  ii.  385  ; 
Microcosmos,  ii.  385. 

Berni,  Francesco, 
iii.  205. 

Berthelet,  Thomas, 

i.  138,  139,  146,  147. 

Beryn,  The  History  of  (No.  68), 
added  to  the  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Urry,  i.  289,  448  ; 
its  genuineness  denied  by 
Tyrwhitt,  i.  476; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 
Bestiary  entitled  Physiologns, 

ii. 336,  337,  419. 

Betterton,  Thomas, 

his  modernizations  of  Chau- 
cer, 

iii.  186,  187,  1S9,  190,  191. 

Bevis  of  Hampton,  Sir,  Ro- 
mance of, 

ii.  201. 

Bible,  The, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  ii. 
187,  389;  his  critical  treat- 
ment of,  ii.  509 ; 
its  plain-speaking,  iii.  359. 
Biographia  Britannica, 
i.  190. 

Biography  and  men  of  letters, 

i.  3-7. 

Birth  of  Chaucer,  date  of, 
the  1328  date  an  error,  i.  51,  52 ; 


460 


INDEX 


argument  for  1340  date,  i.  18- 

32; 

the  Scrope  and  Grosvenor 
controversy,  i.  18-20,  22- 


27; 

the  Prince  Lionel  accounts,  i. 
20,  21,  28-31  ; 

Ceyx  and  Alcyone  reference, 
i.  21,  22,  31,  32  ; 

argument  for  a date  earlier 
than  1340,  i.  33-50; 
references  to  age  in  his  own 
writings,  i.  33-42  ; 
by  contemporaries,  i.  42-48 ; 
individual  longevity,  i.  48, 49 ; 
the  Occleve  portrait,  i.  50 ; 
limits  of  probable  date,  i.  53. 

Birthplace  of  Chaucer, 

London,  i.  14 ; 

Oxfordshire  or  Berkshire,  i. 
133.152; 

AVoodstock,  i.  153 ; 
theories  as  to,  i.  160,  161. 

Bishop,  William, 
preface  to  Pits’s  account  of 
English  writers,  iii.  35. 

Black  knight.  The  Complaint 
of  the  (No.  17), 
mentioned  by  Leland,  i.  140; 
named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i. 


432; 

its  genuineness  discussed,  i. 
480-482 ; 

attributed  to  Lydgate,  i.  481  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504 


n. ; 

Dart’s  modernization  of,  iii. 


200 ; 

Sandras  on,  iii.  409. 
Black-letter  abandoned, 
i.  292-294,  iii.  278. 

Blackmore,  Sir  Richard, 
i-  334* 

Blackwood’s  Magazine, 

prints  a modernization  of  the 
Clerk’s  tale,  iii.  212. 

Blades,  William, 
cited,  i.  264, 429. 

Blanche  of  Lancaster, 
i.  21,  26. 


Blank  verse, 
iii.  48, 49. 

Blind  Harry, 
i.  329. 

Blount,  Thomas  Pope, 
sketch  of  Chaucer’s  life,  i. 
159. 

Boccaccio, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  186,  225- 
236,  248,  256,  417,  iii.  41 1 ; 
Teseide,  i.  345,  ii.  204,  225  ff, 
252,  403,  514,  iii.  169 ; 

De  Casibiis  Virortim  et  Feini- 
7iariim  Illustriuvi,  i.  358,419, 
ii.  159,  231,  iii.  12,  332; 

Liber  de  Montibiis,  Sylvis,  etc., 
ii.  181  n. ; 

De  Genealogia  Deorum,  ii.  184, 
232,  262,^287,  407,  40k 
Filostrato,  ii.  205  n.,  225,  227, 
235,  236,  241,  313; 
Decameron,  ii.  228  ff,  249,  iii. 
341,413,415; 

De  Claris  Mulieribus,  ii.  231  ; 
his  greatest  service  to  the 
Italian  race,  ii.  454 ; 

Sandras  on,  iii.  407,  409  ; 
allusion,  iii.  136. 

Boethius, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  i.203, 361 ,452, 
ii.  29,  120,  193,  208,  241,  249, 
261,  265-267,  383,  416,  419  ; 
De  Consolatione  PhilosophieE, 
i.  1 81,  184,  203,  ii.  29,  266, 
334,  346,  iii.  373,  374 ; 

De  Mttsica,  ii.  266,  390. 

(See  The  Consolation  of  Phi- 
losophyi) 

Boileau, 

Art  Poetiqice,  iii.  102,  109. 

Bolton,  Edmund, 
on  authorities  for  choice  of 
words,  iii.  60,  61, 

Bombastic,  Chaucer’s  freedom 
from  the,  iii.  326. 

Bon  Consail,  Balade  de  (No.  42), 
added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Stow,  i.  438; 


INDEX 


461 


attributed  to  Lydgate,  i.  438  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 
Bond,  Edward  Augustus, 
discovery  by,  i.  20,  21,  28. 
Bonham,  William, 
publisher,  i.  269. 

Book  of  Cupid,  The. 

( See  The  Cuckoo  aud  the 
Nightifigale^ 

Book  of  the  Duchess,  The. 

(See  The  Death  of  Bla7tche?} 
Book  of  the  Lion,  The. 
named  in  the  Retractation,  i. 

413; 

named  in  Lydgate’s  list,  i.  421 ; 
supposed  original  of,  i.  423,  ii. 
214. 

Books, 

Chaucer’s  love  of,  ii.  195-200; 
prices  of,  in  the  fourteenth 
century,  ii.  196,  197. 

“ Boozy  Chaucer,”  iii.  239. 
Boswell,  James,  the  younger, 
i-  333- 

Bowles,  Rev.  William  Lisle, 
commendation  of  Mason’s 
Musseus,  iii.  128. 

Boyse,  Samuel, 
modernizations  of  Chaucer, 
iii.  190,  192,  193,  194,  195, 
196,  199. 

Bradshaw,  Henry, 
discoveries  by,  i.  147,  250,  267, 

452; 

cited,  435  n.,  436  n.,  476  n. ; 
on  genuineness  of  the  Ro- 
mance of  the  Rose,  ii.  16, 17 ; 
on  LoHius,  ii.  413. 
Bradwardine,  Thomas, 
Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  ii. 

382,383; 

De  Causa  Det,  ii.  382. 

Brae,  Andrew  Edmund, 
references  to  his  edition  of 
the  Astrolabe,  i.  208,  308,  ii. 

398. 

Braithwaite,  Richard, 

Comment  upon  Two  Tales  of 
Chaucer,  iii.  89-91,  92,  1 10  ; 
his  style  illustrated,  iii.  90. 


Brevitate  Vztce,  De. 

(See  Seiieca?) 

Brewer,  Prof., 

styles  Chaucer  a Wycliffite, 

ii.  460, 

Brigham,  Nicholas, 

i.  94,  i5on. 

Brittle,  Richard, 
i.  86. 

Brock,  Edmund, 
translator  of  Trivet’s  Anglo- 
Norman  Chronicle,  ii.  210. 
Brooch  of  Vulcan,  The. 

(See  The  Complaint  of  Mar  si) 
Brooke,  Henry, 

modernization  of  Man  of 
Law’s  tale,  iii.  190,  192, 193, 
194, 196, 199. 

Broome,  William, 
executor  of  Urry,  i.  290. 
Browning,  Mrs.  E.  B., 
on  Lydgate,  iii.  26  ; 
joins  in  the  last  of  the  mod- 
ernizations of  Chaucer, 

iii.  214-229. 

Browning,  Robert, 

allusions,  iii.  150,  214. 

Brutus  and  Cassius, 

Chaucer’s  error  as  to,  ii.  184. 
Brutus,  mythical  King  of  Brit- 
ain, 

i.  132, 

ii.  316. 

Buckholt,  Isabella, 
sues  Chaucer,  i.  88. 

Buckley,  Master, 
i.  172. 

Budgell,  Eustace, 

iii.  192. 

Bukton,  Epistle  to  (No.  9), 
autobiographic  material  in,  i. 
112-115,  361 ; 

printed  before  1 532,  i.  429  ; 
named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.  431 ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. ; 
its  reference  to  the  Wife  of 
Bath’s  tale,  ii.  522. 

Bulwer  - Lytton,  Edward  (Lord 
Lytton), 
iii.  214. 


462 


INDEX 


Burghersh,  Matilda, 
wife  of  Thomas  Chaucer,  i. 
102. 

Burley,  John, 

sent  on  secret  service  with 
Chaucer,  i.  68. 

Busirus  and  Diomedes, 

Chaucer’s  error  as  to,  ii.  184. 

‘ By  God,’ 

use  of  the  oath,  as  a test  of 
the  genuineness  of  the  Ro- 
mance of  the  Rose,  ii.  99, 
550. 

‘ By  Saint  Charity,’ 

Chaucer’s  oath  of,  ii.  216. 

Byron,  George  Gordon,  Lord, 
a printer’s  error  in  his  apos- 
trophe to  the  ocean,  i.  230 ; 
on  Chaucer,  iii.  260,  261 ; 
allusion,  i,  167. 

Caesar,  Julius, 
ii.  184,  254,  274. 

Callisthenes, 

ii.  303. 

Camden  Society, 

its  publication  of  Milton’s 
commonplace  book,  iii.  76. 

Camden,  William, 
i.  153,  160. 

Campbell,  Thomas, 

on  Pope’s  modernization  of 
Chaucer’s  House  of  Fame, 
iii.  184,  185  ; 

his  admiration  for  Chaucer, 
iii.  259. 

Canon’s  Yeoman’s  tale.  The, 
tests  of  genuineness  illus- 
trated from,  i.  388,  ii.  1 3, 1 1 5, 
141,  142,  144,  147  ; 
books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  ii.  351,  360,  392  ; 
its  exposure  of  alchemy,  ii. 
501,  502. 

Canterbury  tale, 

as  a designation  of  an  im- 
probable story,  iii.  41. 

Canterbury  Tales,  The  (No.  i), 
autobiographic  material  in,  i. 
68,  108,  170,  191,  358  ; 


mentioned  by  Leland,  i.  139; 
Hertzberg’s  German  version 
of,  i.  201  ; 
prose  of,  i.  205  ; ' 
number  of  manuscripts  of,  i. 

239.  340 ; 

Caxton’s  editions  of,  i.  263, 264; 
Thynne’s,  i.  265,  268,  278  ; 
Urry’s  edition  of,  i.  284,  286, 
289 ; 

Morell’s,  i.  296 ; 

Tyrwhitt’s,  i.  301,  309,  316,  iii. 
254.255; 

J.  Bell’s  reprint  of  Tyrwhitt's 
edition  of,  i.  31 1,  iii.  255  ; 
Wright’s  edition  of,  i.  3 1 6,  3 1 8, 

319; 

R.  Bell’s,  i.  324; 

Morris’s,  i.  327  ; 
texts  of,  printed  by  the  Chau- 
cer Society,  i.  340,  ii.  226  ; 
further  annotation  of,  needed, 

1.352; 

named  in  the  Retractation,  i. 
4^3;. 

named  in  Lydgate’s  list,  i.  421, 

427; 

named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.  431  ; 
composition  and  history  of,  i. 

4i8,436,447,453,ii.3n.,  510; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. ; 
the  tests  of  genuineness  illus- 
trated from,  i.  387,  389,  392, 
408,  ii.  13,  18,  32,  44,  51,  64, 

71 ; 

books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  ii.  219,  221,  229, 
230,  231,  239,253,  268; 
in  literary  history,  iii.  56,  70, 
154,  156,  186,  189-191,  197, 
199,  200,  216  ff,  233,  270  ; 
Chaucer’s  literary  art  as  shown 
in,  iii.  291,  330  ; 
plan  of,  incompleteness  of,  iii. 
431-436,439. 

(See  Prologue,  The  Knight's 
tale,  etc.) 

Cantuaria,  Thomas, 

metrical  prayer  ascribed  to,  i. 
450. 


INDEX 


463 


Capitolinus,  Julius, 

ii. 405. 

Carew,  Richard, 

iii.  174. 

Carter,  Miss, 

her  knowledge  of  Chaucer, 
iii.  262. 

Cartwright,  William, 

praise  of  Chaucer,  iii.  79  ; 
imitations  of  Chaucer,  iii.  1 16- 
1 18,  123. 

Cary,  H.  F., 

notes  to  his  translation  of  the 
Divma  Commedia,  cited,  ii. 
237,  239,  240,  243,  402. 

Cast  bus  Vtrortcm,  De. 

(See  Boccacciob) 

Cassiodorus, 
ii.  388. 

Catcott,  Alexander  Stopford, 
modernization  of  the  Court 
of  Love,  iii.  200. 

Cato,  Dionysius, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  358-360, 
388,  419  ; 

De  M or  thus,  ii.  358  ; 
allusion,  ii.  396. 

Cato  Parvits,  The  Distichs  of, 
Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  361. 

Causa  Dei,  De. 

(See  Bradwardmei) 

Cave’s  Ecclesiastical  Writers, 

ii.465. 

Caxton,  William, 

his  editions  of  Chaucer’s 
poems,  and  references  to,  i. 
139,  146,  242,  254,  263-265, 
429,  435.  ji-  161,  iii.  33^37; 
F.  Thynne’s  comments  on  his 
text  of  the  Canterbury 
Tales,  i.  268 ; 

the  Retractation  printed  by, 

i.  413.  447; 

his  praise  of  Chaucer,  iii.  30 ; 
allusions,  ii.  359,  iii.  22,  70. 

C.  B., 

in  the  Gentleman’s  Magazine, 
on  Mason’s  Musoeus,  iii.  129. 


Cecilia,  The  Life  of  Saint, 

i.  412, 

ii.  300,  321,  323,  324,  329,  486, 
488. 

(See  The  Second  Ntm  s tale.) 
Cento  Novelle  Antic  he, 
ii.  249. 

‘ Certain,’ 

use  of  the  word,  as  a test  of 
the  genuineness  of  the  Ro- 
mance of  the  Rose,  ii.  90, 
541. 

‘ Certes,’ 

use  of  the  word,  as  a test  of 
the  genuineness  of  the  Ro- 
mance of  the  Rose,  ii.  89, 
90,  540. 

Cervantes, 
allusion,  iii.  243. 

Ceyx  and  Alcyone, 

its  identity  with  the  Death  of 
Blanche,  i.  21,  31,  32,  424, 
ii.  251,  iii.  320; 

named  in  the  Man  of  Law’s 
tale,  i.  416 ; 

named  in  Lydgate’s  list,  i.  421. 
Chalmers,  Alexander, 
i.  181,  234. 

Chalmers,  George, 
i.  322. 

Changes  of  method,  Chaucer’s, 
i.  381-385,  408-410,  iii.  321, 

335-339.  439.  44o. 

Character  of  Chaucer, 

no  direct  information  as  to,  i. 
10; 

the  significance  of  the  amount 
of  his  ransom  discussed,  i. 

57. 58; 

evidence  of  estimation  from 
benefactions  received,  i.  64, 
66 ; 

versatility  of  talents  and 
knowledge  of  affairs,  i.  70 

ff; 

worst  view  of  the  Cecilia 
Chaumpaigne  incident,  i. 
76,  80 ; 

charge  of  inefficiency  dis- 
cussed, i.  82,  85  ; 


INDEX 


464 

a favorite  of  the  court,  i.  83 ; 
alleged  negligence  in  loss  of 
copies  of  grants,  i.  90  ; 
depth  and  tenderness  of  feel- 
ing, i.  loi  ; 

man  of  the  world,  i.  113,114; 
practical  and  literary  ability, 
i.  121-126 ; 

the  charge  of  betrayal  of 
his  associates  groundless,  i. 
T 98-200,  481  ; 

healthiness  of  his  nature,  i. 
223; 

his  likeness  to  Horace,  ii.  263, 
264; 

circumspection  of  his  utter- 
ances, ii.  308,  515,  517,  522  ; 
literary  conscientiousness,  ii. 

413-41 5,  iii.  420-429; 
the  religious  side,  ii.  458-536  ; 
representative  of  Hellenic  ele- 
ment in  modern  civiliza- 
tion, iii.  38  ; 

fondness  for  display  of  his 
learning,  iii.  321. 

Charlemagne,  Legendary  cycle 
of, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  303,  304. 

Chartier,  Alain, 

the  claim  that  Chaucer  was 
an  imitator  of,  i.  136,  146, 
iii.  406. 

Chatterton,  Thomas, 
i.  173- 

Chaucer,  Agnes, 

wife  of  John,  i.  13,  60. 

Chaucer,  Alice,  daughter  of 
Thomas, 

marriage  of,  i.  103,  153, 

Chaucer,  Elizabeth, 
two  of  the  name,  i.  100. 

Chaucer,  John, 

Geoffrey’s  father,  i.  12  ; 
citizen  of  London,  i.  14; 
unmarried  in  1328,  i.  51,  52  ; 
abduction  of,  i.  53  ; 
death  of,  i.  60 ; 
seal  of,  i.  106  n. ; 
mention  of,  by  Dart,  i.  188. 


i Chaucer,  Lewis, 

son  of  Geoffrey,  i.  100; 
mention  of,  in  the  Astrolabe, 
i.  loi  ; 

in  Godwin’s  life  of  Chaucer, 
i.  198. 

Chaucer,  Mary, 
wife  of  Robert  le,  i.  13,  52. 
Chaucer,  Philippa, 
pensions  to,  i.  63,  95  ; 
Geoffrey’s  wife,  i.  96-98. 
Chaucer,  Richard, 

(1 ) step-father  of  J ohn,  i.  5 1 , 52 ; 

(2)  vintner,  i.  161. 

Chaucer,  Robert  le, 

father  of  John,  i.  13. 

Chaucer,  Thomas, 
appointed  forester  to  the 
North  Petherton  Park,  i.  87; 
birth  of,  probable  date  of,  i. 

98; 

the  question  of  his  relation- 
ship to  Chaucer,  i.  99,  102- 
112,  155,  198 ; 

homes  and  haunts  of,  identi- 
fied with  Chaucer’s,  i.  153, 
178. 

Chaucer  Societ}^  The, 
founded,  i.  340 ; 
work  of,  i.  340,  341,  iii.  264 ; 
manuscripts  of  the  Legend  of 
Good  Women  printed  by,  i. 

371; 

its  publications,  quoted,  i.  59 
n.,  381  ; 

cited,  i.  308  n.,  ii.  3 n.,  17  n.,  51, 
226,  384. 

Chaucer’s  Ghost, 
a plagiarism  from  Gower,  iii. 
1 18,  1 19. 

Chaumpaigne,  Cecilia,  Case  of, 
i.  74-80. 

Chesterfield,  Earl  of, 
on  the  language  of  Chaucer 
and  Spenser,  iii.  137,  138. 
Chettle,  Henry, 
iii.  69. 

Chetwood,  Dr.  Knightley, 
the  seventeenth-century  view 
of  Chaucer,  iii.  94. 


INDEX  465 


Child,  Prof.  Francis  James, 
on  the  language  of  Chaucer, 

i-  335-339; 

on  the  Romance  of  the  Rose, 
ii.  9. 

Children  of  Chaucer, 

i.  loo-i  12. 

Choice  Drollery, 

imitation  of  Chaucer  in,  iii. 
1 18. 

Christian  Fathers,  The, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  288-300. 

Chrysippus, 

ii.  289,  290,  400. 

Church  and  state, 

Chaucer’s  sympathies  in  the 
conflict  of,  ii.  477-482  ; 
his  hostility  to  the  church  in 
his  later  work,  ii.  517-522. 

Church,  Daniel, 

reputed  author  of  the  distichs 
of  Cato  Parvics,  ii.  361. 

Cibber,  Theophilus, 
his  Lives  of  the  Poets  cited, 
i.  190,  iii.  193. 

Cicero, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  249,  265, 
271-274,  276,  277,  388,  iii. 
41 1 ; 

Dream  of  Scipio,  ii.  180,  272, 
276,  278,  iii.  321,  428  ; 

De  Amicitia,  ii.  272  ; 

De  Divinatio7ie,  ii.  272  ; 

De  Republic  a,  ii.  277  ; 

De  Or  at  ore,  ii,  369  n. ; 
allusion,  iii.  378. 

Citherus, 
i.  245. 

Civil  offices  held  by  Chaucer, 
i.  6r,  71-74,  81-86. 

Civitate  Dei,  De. 

(See  August  me,  Samt.) 

Claris  Mulieribus,  De. 

(See  Boccaccioi) 

Clarke,  Charles  Cowden, 
spurious  pieces  defended  by, 
i.  477  ; 

on  Chaucer’s  diction,  ii.  446  ; 

111.-30 


The  Riches  of  Chaucer,  iii. 
269  ff; 

allusion,  iii.  214. 

Claudian, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  249,  254- 
258,  276,  419 ; 

De  Raptu  Rroserpiiice,  ii.  255, 
347,  382  n. ; 

Panegyric  on  the  sixth  con- 
sulship of  the  Emperor 
Honorius,  ii.  257  ; 

Laus  SereticE,  ii.  257  ; 

Di  Rufinum,  ii.  255,  348. 
Cleopatra,  The  Story  of, 

i. 417, 

ii.  185,  288, 

iii.  12. 

Clerk  of  the  king’s  works, 
Chaucer  appointed,  i.  84,  85. 
Clerk  of  Oxford’s  tale.  The, 
autobiographic  material  in,  i. 
67; 

textual  errors  illustrated  from, 
i.  241  ; 

named  in  Lydgate’s  list,  i.  42  r ; 
illustrations  from,  of  the  tests 
of  genuineness,  i.  403,  ii.  21, 
31,  129,  143; 

books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  ii.  224,  225,  228 

ff ; 

its  reference  to  the  Wife  of 
Bath’s  tale,  ii.  522  ; 
modernizations  of,  iii.  190, 
194,213; 

versification  of,  iii.  309  ; 
Chaucer’s  critical  spirit  as 
shown  in,  iii.  340-344. 
Cleveland,  John, 

reference  to  Chaucer,  iii.  37. 
Clough,  Arthur  Hugh, 

on  the  morality  of  certain  of 
Chaucer’s  poems,  iii.  353, 

363. 

Cobb,  Samuel, 

his  modernization  of  the  Mil- 
ler’s tale,  iii.  188,  190,  191. 
Cobbler,  Captain, 
i.  464. 


466 


INDEX 


Cokayne,  Sir  Aston, 
tribute  to  Chaucer,  iii.  94  ; 
on  Chaucer’s  language,  iii. 
135- 

Coleridge,  Samuel  Taylor, 
his  theory  of  Chaucer’s  versi- 
fication, i.  330; 
metre  of  Christabel,  i.  335  ; 
his  admiration  for  Chaucer, 
iii.  259 ; 
allusion,  i.  167. 

Collation  of  manuscripts, 
value  of,  i.  244,  260,  294 ; 
extent  of,  by  Thynne,  i.  266, 
267 ; 

by  Speght,  i.  27 1 , 272,  274,  27 5 ; 
by  Stow,  i.  274 ; 
by  Urry,  i.  284,  294 ; 
by  Morell,  i.  295  ; 
by  Dr.  Johnson,  proposed,  i. 
298 ; 

by  Tyrwhitt,  i.  301  ; 

Wright’s  view,  i.  321  ff ; 

G.  Chalmers’s,  i.  322  ; 
object  of  Chaucer  Society  to 
facilitate,  i.  340,  341. 

Collier,  Jeremy, 

his  sketch  of  Chaucer’s  life,  i. 
159,  172. 

Collier,  John  Payne, 

error  as  to  Spenser,  i.  29  ; 
his  Early  English  Literature 
cited,  i.  151  ; 

denies  genuineness  of  the 
Testament  of  Love,  i.  204; 
error  as  to  Stow,  i.  439  n. 

Collinson’s  History  of  Somer- 
setshire, 
cited,  i.  86  n. 

Colman,  George,  the  elder, 
on  Dryden’s  modernizations 
of  Chaucer,  iii.  158,  159. 

Comic  author,  Chaucer  essen- 
tially a,  a widely  accepted 
view  in  the  seventeenth  and 
the  eighteenth  century, 
iii.  93,  121,  238  ; 
reason  for,  iii.  359,  360  ; 
accepted  by  Matthew  Arnold, 
iii.  362. 


Commendation  of  Our  Lady,  A 
Ballade  in  (No.  26), 
named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.  433 ; 
its  genuineness  denied  by 
Tyrwhitt,  i.  475 ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 
Commission  to  repair  highways, 
Chaucer  appointed  one  of,  i. 
37.85- 

Commonplace,  Chaucer’s  free- 
dom  from  the,  iii.  327. 
Comparison,  the  method  of.  In- 
stances of  misuse  of, 
ii.  238,  247,  iii.  290-293. 
Complaint,  A Ballade  of  (No. 
77), 

added  to  the  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Skeat,  i.  453  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 
Confusion  of  times  and  places, 
a necessity  with  Chaucer,  iii. 
381,  382. 

Congreve,  William, 
i.  27. 

Connoisseur,  The, 
cited,  iii.  159. 

‘Consider  well  every  circum- 
stance ’ (No.  35), 
named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.  434  ; 
attributed  to  Lydgate,  i.  456  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 
Consolation  of  Philosophy, 
Boethius’s,  Chaucer’s  trans- 
lation of  (No.  7), 
mentioned  by  Leland,  i.  140; 
its  prose,  i.  205  ; 
its  translation  of  apium,  i. 

243; 

named  in  the  Legend  of  Good 
Women,  i.  412,  ii.  266  ; 
named  in  the  Retractation,  i. 
413,  ii.  266 ; 

named  in  Lydgate’s  list,  i.  420 ; 
named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.  431  ; 
number  of  copies  existing,  i. 
429; 

classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. ; 
illustrations  from,  of  the  tests 
of  genuineness,  ii.  21,  22,  30, 
42,  132,  154; 


INDEX 


467 


illustrat'ons  from,  of  the  inac- 
curac^y  of  Chaucer’s  scholar- 
ship, il.  205  ; 
its  completeness,  ii.  334. 

(See  Boethius) 

Constance  of  Castile, 

i.  96. 

ConstantiusAfer,  medical  writer, 
ii-  393.  394. 

Contemporaries,  Chaucer’s  pop- 
ularity with  his, 
iii.  10-15. 

Contemptii  Miindi,  De. 

(See  Innocent  III) 

Controllerships  of  Chaucer, 

i.  72,  73,82. 

Cook’s  tale.  The, 

supposed  recovery  of  the  con- 
clusion of,  i.  446 ; 
the  Tale  of  Gamelin,  i.  447  ; 
incompleteness  of,  iii.  434. 

Cooper,  Elizabeth, 

attempts  to  revive  knowledge 
of  the  earlier  writers,  iii. 
242,  243. 

Corinne, 

unknown  author,  ii.  402-405. 

Corrupter  of  the  language.  The 
charge  that  Chaucer  was  a, 

ii.  438-453- 

Cortez, 

Keats’s  error  as  to,  ii.  191. 

Couplet,  The  rymed  or  heroic, 

i.  376,  iii.  1 36,  301 , 304,  306,  307. 

Court  of  Love,  The  (No.  60), 
autobiographic  material  in,  i. 
28,  29,  164  ff ; 

added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Stow,  i.  441  ; 
the  question  of  its  genuine- 
ness, i.  475,  480,  496-503,  ii. 
73,  iii.  125  ; 

classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. ; 
Catcott’s  modernization  of, 

iii.  200 ; 

Sandras  on,  iii.  409. 

Court  of  Venus, 
i.467. 

Coventry,  Sir  William, 
on  Sir  John  Mennis,  iii.  88. 


Cowley,  Abraham, 

his  failure  to  appreciate  Chau- 
cer, iii.  104. 

allusions,  i.  325,  iii.  174. 

Craft  of  Lovers,  The  (No.  47), 
added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Stow,  i.  439  ; 
its  genuineness  denied  by 
Tyrwhitt,  i.  475  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 
Craik,  George  Lillie, 

ii.  204. 

Cranmer,  Thomas, 

iii.  41. 

Crassus, 

Gower’s  error  as  to,  ii.  190. 
Credulity, 

Chaucer’s  attitude  towards, 

ii.  502,  503. 

Critias, 

Spenser’s  error  as  to,  ii.  191. 
Critical  Review,  The, 
on  Tyrwhitt’s  edition  of  the 
Canterbury  Tales,  i.  310. 
Criticism  of  Chaucer, 

iii.  80,  104-108,  283-295,  367. 
Croesus,  The  Story  of, 
ii.  219. 

Cuckoo  and  the  Nightingale, 
The  (No.  27), 

autobiographic  material  in,  i. 

177; 

named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.  433  ; 
the  question  of  its  genuine- 
ness, i.  480,  486-489,  iii. 
29; 

not  named  in  Lydgate’s  list, 
i.  488 ; 

classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. ; 
Wordsworth’s  modernization 
of,  iii.  217. 

Cultu  Feniinaruni,  De. 

(See  Tertidlian) 

Curtius,  Quintus, 
ii-353- 

Dalrymple,  Hugh, 
on  Chaucer,  iii.  239. 

Damasus, 
ii.  388. 


468 


INDEX 


Dameray,  Lantin  de, 

edition  of  the  Ro77ta7i  de  la 
Rose,  ii.  5 n. 

Daniel  and  his  three  compan- 
ions, 

Chaucer’s  error  as  to,  ii.  187. 

Daniel,  Samuel, 
on  diction  of  poetry,  iii.  60 ; 
on  Chaucer’s  fame,  iii.  72  ; 
his  attitude  towards  criticism, 
iii.  284, 

Dante  Alighieri, 

Chaucer’s  alleged  translation 
of,  i.  420, 42 5, 426,  ii.  236, 237 ; 
Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  236-248, 
iii.  41 1,  424 ; 

Divma  Co77i77iedia,  iii.  237  £f ; 
allusions,  i.  137,  ii.  235,  401, 
iii.  205,  362. 

‘ Dare  I say,’  ‘ Dare  I tell,’ 
use  of  the  phrases,  as  tests  of 
the  genuineness  of  the  Ro- 
mance of  the  Rose,  ii.  98, 
548. 

Dares  Phrygius, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  260,  279, 
305  ff,  419,  iii.  371. 

Dart,  John, 

his  life  of  Chaucer,  and  refer- 
ences to,  i.  12,  94  n.,  161,  166, 
169,  186-190,  290,  291  ; 
denies  the  genuineness  of  the 
Plowman’s  Tale  and  Jack 
Upland,  i.  471,  472  ; 
modernizes  the  Complaint  of 
the  Black  Knight,  iii.  200 ; 
his  praise  of  Chaucer,  iii.  258. 
(See  U7’ry,  Joh7il) 

Davenant,  Sir  William, 
i-  333- 

Death  of  Blanche,  The  (No.  8), 
autobiographic  material  in,  i. 

21, 26, 31,  32, 97, 177, 21 1,  360; 
mentioned  by  Leland,  i.  140; 
number  of  manuscripts  of,  i. 
239,  262 ; 

textual  errors  illustrated  from, 
i.  241,245,255; 


named  in  the  Lege  id  of  Good 
Women,  i.  412  ; 
named  in  the  Retractation,  i. 

413; 

named  in  Lydgate’s  list,  i. 
420,  424 ; 

named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.  431  ; 
not  printed  till  1532,  i.  429; 
entitled  in  first  editions.  The 
Dream  of  Chaucer,  i.  442  ; 
imitated  in  the  so  - called 
Chaucer’s  Dream,  i.  482  ; i 
ballade  sometimes  appended 
to,  i.  487  ; 

classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. ; 
illustrations  from,  of  the  tests 
of  genuineness,  i.  387,  394, 
401,  ii.  19,  22,  34,  52,  54,  62, 
64,  68,  69,  85,  124,  129,  140, 
141,150,154; 

illustration  from,  of  the  inac- 
curacy of  Chaucer’s  schol- 
arship, ii.  187 ; 

its  reference  to  Chaucer’s  love 
of  books,  ii.  198  ; 
books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  ii.  212-21 5,  218, 
251,  280,  302,  335,  363,  iii. 

398,  427 ; 

Chaucer’s  lack  of  reverence  as 
shown  in,  ii.  507  ; 
opening  of,  imitated  by  Frois- 
sart, iii.  13 ; 

Chaucer’s  literary  art  as  seen 
in,  ii.  105,  iii.  306,  320,  371 ; 
incompleteness  of,  iii.  431. 

Death  of  Chaucer,  Date  of, 
i.  94,  141,  149,  150. 

Death  - bed.  Alleged  composi- 
tion of  a poem  by  Chaucer  on 
his,  i.  363,  364. 

Deca77iero7i. 

(See  Boccaccio?) 

Decker,  Thomas, 
iii.  69. 

Deguilleville,  Guillaume  de, 
Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  207,  208  ; 
Pelermage  de  la  Vie  Hu77iai7ie, 
ii.  208,  432. 


INDEX  469 


Denham,  Sir  John, 
verses  in  praise  of  Chaucer, 
iii.  95,  98 ; 
allusion,  iii.  109. 

Dennis,  John, 

on  change  in  language,  iii.  141. 
Deoriim  Imaginzbus,  De. 

(See  A/brzcus.) 

Deputy,  Permanent,  allowed  to 
Chaucer, 

i.  74. 

Descharnps,  Eustache, 

his  reference  to  married  life, 

i.  1 14 ; 

flower  and  leaf  references,  i. 
492,  iii.  409 ; 

ballade  to  Chaucer,  ii.4,  217, 
iii.  14,  394,  423. 

Devon’s  Issues  of  the  Ex- 
chequer, 
quoted,  i.  70  n. ; 
cited,  ii.  196,  325. 

Dialect, 

as  a test  of  genuineness,  i. 

370-372.  385-388,  ii.  34-56; 
use  of  Midland,  by  Scotch 
poets,  iii.  18. 

Diana,  the  Temple  of, 

Chaucer’s  blunder  as  to,  ii. 
183. 

Diction  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, 

iii.  201,  202. 

Dictys  Cretensis, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  279,  307  ff. 
Diderot, 

his  characterization  of  Shak- 
speare,  iii.  248. 

Dido,  The  Story  of, 

ii.  250,  508,  iii.  22,  426. 

Dido  to  ^neas.  The  Letter  of, 

i.  435,  iii.  368. 

Diplomatic  missions  given  to 
Chaucer, 
i.  66-71. 

Disbelief, 

want  of  reverence  not  evi- 
dence of,  ii.  508. 

(See  Scepticism?) 


Dit  de  la  Fontame  Amor  ease  ; 
Dit  du  Lion  ; 

Dit  die.  Remcde  de  Fortune. 

(See  Machaidt.') 

Divinatione,  De. 

(See  Cicero?) 

Do  and  did.  Use  of,  as  a test  of 
genuineness, 
i.  498-501,  ii.  72-75. 

Dobson,  Austin, 

letter  to  London  Athenaeum 
quoted,  i.  80  n. 

Doctor  of  Physic’s  Tale,  The, 
literary  tests  of  genuineness 
illustrated  from,  ii.  84  ; 
books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  ii.  219,  279  n.,  281, 
412  ; 

commonplaced  by  Milton,  iii. 

76  ; 

anachronism  in,  iii.  379. 
Doctrmale  Minns. 

(See  Alanus  de  Insnlis.) 
Donne,  John, 
i-  334.  383- 
Donnington  Castle, 
i.  103,  178-180. 

Doubtful  works  of  Chaucer, 

List  of,  as  classed  in  this 
work,  i.  503  n. 

Douce,  Francis, 
on  Guido  da  Colonna  and 
Benoit  de  Sainte-More,  ii. 

311- 

Douglas,  Gawin, 
references  to  Chaucer,  i.  42, 

iii.  16,  17  ; 

Sibbald  on  his  versification, 

i.  329; 

inaccuracy  of  his  scholarship 
illustrated,  ii.  190 ; 
his  imitation  of  Chaucer,  iii. 
19  ff. 

Drake,  Nathan, 
his  praise  of  Dunbar,  iii.  16 

n, 

Drayton,  Michael, 

Polyolbion,  ii.  171,  397  ; 
on  Chaucer  and  Gower,  iii. 
71,  221 ; 


470 


INDEX 


Goldsmith  s remark  about,  iii. 

113; 

his  attitude  towards  criticism, 
iii.  284. 

Dream,  The. 

(See  Dream,  Chaucers.) 
Dream,  Chaucer’s,  now  called 
the  Isle  of  Ladies  (No.  62), 
autobiographic  material  in,  i. 

28,  29,  31,  177,  211,  483  ; 
added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Stow,  i.  442  ; 
the  question  of  its  genuine- 
ness, i.  480,  482-486 ; 
Sandras  on,  iii.  409. 

Dream  of  Chaucer,  The. 

(See  The  Death  of  Blanche^ 
Dream  of  Scipio,  The. 

(See  Cicero  ; Macrobiusi) 
Drummond  of  Hawthornden, 
iii.  47- 

Dryden,  John, 

his  patent  as  poet-laureate,  i. 

174; 

commendation  of  Rymer’s 
statement,  ii.  447 ; 
belief  in  judicial  astrology,  ii. 

497; 

on  Spenser’s  diction,  iii.  65  ; 
his  remarks  upon  Chaucer, 
and  their  value,  iii.  80,  99- 
iio,  1 12,  1 14,  231-233,  238, 
252,  256; 

likeness  of  his  fortunes  and 
opinions  to  Chaucer’s,  iii. 
1 10,  1 1 1 ; 

his  imitations  of  Chaucer,  iii. 
87,  113,  119; 

his  modernizations  of,  and 
references  to,  i.  281,  489,  ii. 
228,  iii.  103,  1 13,  133,  154, 
156,  158,  1 59-179,  185,  18C 
189  ff,  195,  196,  204,  246; 
on  the  obsoleteness  of  Chau- 
^ . cer’s  language,  iii.  136; 
allusions,  i.  94,  167,  230,  333, 
334,  iii.  66,  96. 

Dublin  University  Magazine, 
on  Chaucer’s  birthplace,  i. 
161. 


Dunbar,  William, 
estimate  of,  by  later  Scotch 
critics,  iii.  16; 

his  praise  of  Chaucer,  iii.  17  ; 
imitation  of  Chaucer,  iii.  20, 
21. 

Duncombe,  John, 

Letters  by  Several  Eminent 
Persons  Deceased  cited,  iii. 
361  n. 

Dunkin,  Rev.  William, 

modernizes  Chaucer’s  char- 
acterization of  the  Parson, 
iii.  201. 

Dunstan,  Archbishop, 

Chaucer’s  reference  to,  ii.  328, 

329- 

Earle,  John,' 

on  Chaucer’s  rank  as  a poet, 
iii.  3,  74. 

Earlier  English  writers,  revival 
of  interest  in, 

iii.  1 13, 1 14,  236, 237,  241  ff,  263. 
Eberhardus, 

list  of  writers  read  in  schools, 
in  his  De  Versijicatione,  ii. 
419,  420. 

Ebert,  Friedrich  Adolf, 
cited,  ii.  371  n. 

Eclympasteyre, 

i.245. 

Editions  of  Chaucer’s  works. 
Number  of, 
iij-33»  34.255,  263,  264. 

■“XFor  editions  in  detail,  see 
Table  of  Co7ite?tts,  chap,  iii.) 
Education  of  Chaucer,  Sup- 
posed places  of, 

Oxford,  i.  133,  164,  167-170,  ii. 
171; 

Cambridge,  i.  164-167 ; 
France,  i.  171 ; 
the  Middle  Temple,  i.  172. 
Edward  II., 

the  effort  to  canonize,  ii.  325. 
Edward  III., 

his  contribution  to  the  ran- 
som of  Chaucer,  i 57  ; 
gifts  to  Chaucer,  i.  61,  174; 


INDEX 


471 


allusions,  i.  55,  72,  81, 116,  176, 

ii.  202. 

Edward  the  Black  Prince, 

i.  55,  62,  141,  176. 

Edwards,  Richard, 
his  Palemon  and  Arcite,  iii. 
68. 

Effort,  Apparent  absence  of,  in 
Chaucer, 
iii.  445. 

Eight  Goodly  Questions  with 
their  Answers  (No.  36), 
named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i. 

. 434;  . 

its  genuineness  denied,  i.  478 ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 
Ellis,  Alexander  J., 

on  here  and  there,  ii.  17  ; 
on  modernization  of  pronun- 
ciation of  Chaucer,  iii.  276. 
Elwyn,  Rev.  Whitwell, 
on  Dryden’s  modernizations 
of  Chaucer,  iii.  i6r. 
Emendation,  Conjectural, 

i.  260,  261,  395,  396. 

Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo, 
on  Chaucer  as  a plagiarist, 

iii.  394. 

Emperor  Octavian, 

Romance  of,  ii.  302. 

English  classics,  Object  of  study- 
ing, 

primarily  a literary  one,  iii. 
279. 

“ English  Ennius,”  Chaucer  the, 

iii.  94. 

“ English  Homer,”  Chaucer  the, 
iii.  50,  94. 

English  language, 

Chaucer’s  most  signal  service 
to,  ii.  454-458 ; 
change  in,  iii.  140-151. 
Epicurus, 
iii.  452. 

Epithet,  Change  of,  in  the  sev- 
enteenth-century references 
to  Chaucer, 
iii.  94. 

Ercildoune,  Thomas  of, 
iii.  261. 


Euclid, 

ii.  396. 

Eutropius, 

ii.  386. 

Evelyn,  John, 

i.  179. 

Evelyn,  John,  the  younger, 
Chaucer’s  style  facetious,  iii. 

93. 

‘ Everichoon  ’ (as  final  ryme), 
use  of  the  word,  as  a test  of 
the  genuineness  of  the  Ro- 
mance of  the  Rose,  ii.  91, 

544. 

‘ Every  del  ’ (as  final  ryme), 
use  of  the  phrase,  as  a test  of 
the  genuineness  of  the  Ro- 
mance of  the  Rose,  ii.  91, 

543. 

Evolution, 

ii.  530. 

Exhortatione  Castitatis,  De. 

(See  Tertullian?) 

Fables,  Ancient  and  Modern 
(Dryden’s), 

iii.  103,  231. 

Fabliaux, 

Chaucer’s  alleged  indebted- 
ness to,  in  the  Reeve’s 
tale,  ii.  216,  217,  iii.  413, 

414. 

Fabricius,  Johann  Albert, 
Bibliotheca  cited,  ii.  290  n., 
382  n.,  388  n.,  392  n.,  393. 
Factis  Dictisque  Memorabilibus, 
De. 

(See  Valerius  Maximus.') 
Family  relations  of  Chaucer, 
i.  95-115. 

Fasti. 

(See  Ovid.) 

“ Father  Chaucer,” 

i.  42. 

Favorite  authors  of  Chaucer 
and  his  time, 

ii.  416-420. 

Fawkes  and  Woty’s  Poetical 
Calendar, 

iii.  139. 


472 


INDEX 


Fenton,  Elijah, 

on  the  Popean  couplet  and 
the  language  of  Chaucer, 
iii.  136,  137; 
allusions,  iii.  144,  186. 

Fielding,  Henry, 

Andrew- Tucker  incident,  i. 

79; 

contempt  for  long-drawn-out 
romances,  iii.  331  ; 
allusion,  iii.  193. 

Filostrato,  II. 

(See  Boccaccio.) 

“ Fixing  the  language,” 
iii.  145  ff. 

‘ Flee  from  the  press.’ 

(See  Good  Counsel  of  Chaucer.) 
Fletcher,  John, 
iii.  68. 

Flight  and  imprisonment  of 
Chaucer, 

Legend  of,  i.  180-200, 

Florence  of  Worcester, 

Story  of  Kenelm,  ii.  326. 
Florus, 

Chaucer’s  possible  knowledge 
of,  and  obligation  to,  ii.  186, 
249,  288. 

Flower  and  the  Leaf,  The  (No. 

63). 

added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Stow,  i.  442  ; 
the  question  of  its  genuine- 
ness, i.  476,  480, 489-496,  iii. 
29; 

classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. ; 
Dryden’s  modernization  of, 
iii.  175, 195,  200,  216  ; 
Thurlow’s  modernization  of, 
iii.  204,  208 ; 

Powell’s  modernization  of,  iii. 
217; 

Sandras  on,  iii.  409. 

Flower  of  Courtesy,  The  (No. 
II), 

mentioned  by  Leland,  i.  140  ; 
named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i,  432  ; 
assigned  by  Stow  to  Lydgate, 
i.456; 

classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 


Floyd,  William, 
discoveries  by,  i.  86, 

Forester  to  North  Petherton 
Park,  Chaucer  appointed, 
i.86. 

Former  Age,  The  (No.  75), 
discovered  by  Bradshaw  and 
added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Morris,  i,  452  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n, ; 
sources  of,  i.  361,  452,  ii.  267  ; 
special  vocabulary  of,  ii.  29  ; 
versification  of,  iii.  308. 

Fortune. 

(See  Visage  without  Paint- 
ing, Ballade  oft) 

Foster,  Richard, 
i.  74. 

Fox,  Charles  James, 
on  Surrey’s  language,  iii.  150. 

Fox,  John, 

ascribes  J ack  U pland  to  Chau- 
cer, i,  476 ; 

on  Chaucer  as  a Wycklifhte 
and  Reformer,  ii.  463-465, 
476. 

Franciscan-friar  incident, 

A i.  172. 

[Franklin’s  tale.  The, 

\ tests  of  genuineness  illus- 
trated from,  i.  403,  ii.  45  n., 
50,  72,  85,  118,  127,  129,  131, 
142,  144,  147; 

books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  ii.  228,  260,  264, 
271,  293,  370,  372,  390,  398; 
Chaucer’s  opinions  and  meth- 
ods as  shown  in,  ii.499,  5i5> 

531; 

R.  Wharton’s  modernization 
of,  iii.  205  ; 

Horne’s  modernization  of,  iii. 
217,  218 ; 

Chaucer’s  literary  art  as  seen 
in,  iii.  326,  339,  367,  370,  379. 

Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales, 

i.  296. 

French  words,  Chaucer’s  al- 
leged introduction  of, 

ii.  438-446. 


INDEX 


473 


French  writers, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  206-223. 
Friar’s  tale.  The, 
literary  tests  illustrated  from, 

ii.  1 14,  143,  145,  149; 

its  reference  to  Dante  and 
Virgil,  ii.  236 ; 

Markland’s  modernization  of, 

iii.  190,  223 ; 

Hunt’s  modernization  of,  iii. 
217. 

Froissart,  Sir  John, 
on  matters  connected  with 
Chaucer’s  career,  i.  56,  69, 
152; 

mention  of  Retters,  iii.  452  ; 
Eclympasteyre,  i.  245  ; 

Le  Paradis  d’ Amour,  iii.  13  ; 
allusion,  i.  83. 

Fuller,  Dr.  Thomas, 
on  events  in  Chaucer’s  life,  i. 
1 50,  162  ; 

sketches  of  Chaucer  in  Church 
History  and  Worthies  of 
England,  i.  159 ; 
on  Verstegan’s  statement,  ii. 

441. 

Furnivall,  Dr.  Frederick  James, 
facts  discovered  by,  i.  13,  80 
n. ; 

on  Occleve’s  portrait  of  Chau- 
cer, i.  50 ; 
labors  of,  i.  1 18  ; 
quoted,  i.  119; 
cited,  i.  267  n. ; 

founder  of  Chaucer  Society,  i. 
340; 

reference  to  opinion  of,  i. 
460  n. ; 

Temporary  Preface  cited,  ii. 
226  n. ; 

Trial  Forewords  to  Minor 
Texts  cited,  ii.  432  n. ; 

Odd  Texts  of  the  Minor 
Poems,  iii.  310 ; 
recent  discovery  by,  iii.  31 1 
n. ; 

acknowledgment  to.  Intro- 
duction, xxvii. 


Galen,  medical  writer, 
ii- 393- 

Gallicisms  in  Chaucer’s  un- 
doubted writings  and  in 
Romance  of  the  Rose, 
ii.  51,  52,446. 

Gamelin,  The  Tale  of  (No.  66), 
added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Urry,  i.  289,  447  ; 
its  genuineness  denied  by 
Tyrwhitt,  i.  476 ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. ; 
Boyse’s  modernization  of,  iii. 
190. 

Gascoigne,  George, 
versification  of  Chaucer,  i. 
332,  iii.  52; 

on  ‘ riding  ryme,’  iii.  305. 
Gascoigne,  Thomas, 

i.  107  ff. 

Gawain,  Romance  of, 

ii.  196. 

Gay,  John, 

his  imitations  of  Chaucer,  iii. 
120,  125  ; 

use  of  obsolete  words,  iii.  152  ; 
comedy  of  the  Wife  of  Bath, 
iii.  234. 

Gedney,  John, 

succeeds  Chaucer  as  clerk  of 
the  works,  i.  85. 

Gemmis,  De. 

(See  Marbodusi) 

Geiiealogia  Deormn,  De. 

(See  Boccaccio.) 

Geriilon, 
ii.  304. 

Gentilesse  (No.  28), 

printed  before  1532,  i.429; 
named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.  433, 

439; 

classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 
Gentleman’s  Magazine,  The, 
i.  176  n.,  310,  311,  iii.  129,  157, 
194,  201. 

Genuine  works  of  Chaucer, 

List  of,  as  classed  in  this 
work,  i.  504  n. 

Geoffrey  of  Monmouth, 

Hist  or  ia  Britomcm,  ii.  3 1 5-3 1 7. 


474 


INDEX 


Gesenius,  Friedrich  Wilhelm, 
on  Chaucer’s  language,  i.  336. 
Gesta  Roma7^oru7n, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
supposed  obligations  to,  ii. 
317-320,  386  n.,  iii.  415. 

‘ Gestes' 

Chaucer’s  criticism  of  the,  iii. 

330-332. 

Gildon,  Charles, 

obsoleteness  of  Shakspeare’s 
language,  iii.  151. 

Gilfillan,  Rev.  George, 

edition  of  Canterbury  Tales 
with  modernized  spelling, 
iii.  270,  271. 

Gilm.an,  Arthur, 

edition  of  Chaucer’s  works 
cited,  ii.  6 n.,  21  n.,  22  n.,  148, 
499  n. 

Glenbervie,  Lord, 

i.  322. 

Glover,  Robert, 

i.  99,  104,  106,  III,  154. 

Glynn,  Dr.  Robert, 

i.  173  n. 

Godfray,  Thomas, 

i.  146,  265,431,436. 

Godwin,  William, 

his  life  of  Chaucer,  and  refer- 
ences to,  i.  18,  20,  23,  58,  96, 
99,  1 18,  191-198  ; 
his  love-suit  theory,  i.  59,  97, 
21 1-213 ; 

on  The  Flower  and  the  Leaf, 
i.  494. 

‘ God  wot,’  ‘ God  it  wot,’ 
use  of  the  phrases,  as  tests  of 
the  genuineness  of  the  Ro- 
mance of  the  Rose,  ii.  99, 

549.  550- 

‘ Go  forth,  king,  rule  thee  by 
sapience  ’ (No.  33), 
named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i. 

433; 

assigned  to  Lydgate,  i.  482  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504 

n. 

Golden  Legend,  The, 

ii.  320-322. 


Goldsmith,  Oliver, 

his  remark  about  Drayton, 
value  of,  iii.  113  ; 
allusion,  i.  27. 

Good  Counsel  of  Chaucer  (No. 
30), 

its  asserted  composition  on 
his  death-bed,  i.  362-364 ; 
printed  before  1 532,  i.  429 ; 
named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.  433  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. ; 
its  reference  to  a passage  in 
Boethius,  ii.  120 ; 

Harte’s  modernization  of,  iii. 
200. 

Goodly  Ballade  of  Chaucer,  A 
(No.  6), 

named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.  431  ; 
the  question  of  its  genuine- 
ness, i.  479 ; 

classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 

Gospel  of  St.  Mark, 

Chaucer’s  error  in  quotation 
of,  ii.  186. 

‘ Goth,’ 

as  an  epithet  in  the  eighteenth 
century,  iii.  250,  251. 

Gower,  John, 

his  reference  to  Chaucer,  i. 
43-48,  201,  358,  480,  ii.  426, 

iii.  10,  336 ; 

Chaucer  leaves  letter  of  at- 
torney to,  i.  70 ; 

Leland’s  view  of,  i.  134-136, 
143,  147-149.  ii-  433; 
his  address  to  Henry  IV.,  i. 
431,433,438; 

illustrations  from  his  writ- 
ings, of  the  tests  of  genu- 
ineness, i.  374,  375,  378,  381, 
389,  390,  405,  408,  500,  ii.  33, 
45  n.,  48  ff,  60  n.,  64,  72,  77, 
86,  100,  105  ff,  137,  138,  156, 
540  ff ; 

of  the  inaccuracy  of  his  schol- 
arship, ii.  189,  190 ; 
certain  of  the  books  and  au- 
thors used  or  named  by,  ii. 
210,  232,  269,  270,  320,  347, 

1 392; 


INDEX 


475 


languages  used  by,  ii.  454, 

458; 

opinions  of,  ii.  468,  476,  501  ; 
in  literary  history,  iii.  31,  32, 
60,  66,  67,  70,71,  1 19; 
Chaucer’s  supposed  criticism 
of,  iii.  354; 

his  literary  art,  iii.  301,  378, 

417; 

allusions,  i.  83,  91,  280,  359, 
360,  491,  ii.  170. 

Grammar  as  a test  of  genuine- 
ness, 

i.  369,  370,  380,  399-406,  498- 
501,  ii.  65-77,  1 17,  1 18. 

Grammatical  ryming  tests, 
i-  375.  376,  399-406,  ii.  65-72. 
Granson  or  Gransoun,  Sir  Otes 
de, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  i.  40,  41,  ii. 
207,  iii.  423,  450; 

R.  Bell’s  error  as  to,  iii.  220. 
Gray,  Thomas, 

on  versification  of  Chaucer,  i. 
300: 

on  Lydgate,  iii.  26  ; 
an  anachronism  of,  iii.  387  ; 
allusions,  i.  167,  ii.  448,  iii.  126, 
239- 

Gray,  William, 

date  of  Chaucer’s  birth,  i. 
17  n. 

Greek, 

Chaucer’s  ignorance  of,  ii. 
192,  193,  387. 

Gregory,  Saint, 

ii.  388. 

Griselda,  The  Patient, 

ii.  231,  iii.  340-344- 

(See  The  Clerk  of  Oxford's 
talel) 

Grosart’s  Works  of  Spenser, 
cited,  iii.  59  n. 

Grosvenor,  Mr., 

his  modernization  of  the  Sum- 
moner’s  tale,  iii.  190,  191. 
Grosvenor,  Sir  Robert, 

controversy  of,  with  .Sir  Rich- 
ard le  Scrope,  i.  18,  188. 


Gualtier  de  Lille, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  352-355, 

419; 

Alexandrzs,  szve  Gesta  Alex- 
andri  Magnz,  ii.  353,  412  n. 
Guido  da  Colonna, 

Latin  translation  of  Benoit’s 
Roman  de  Troye,  i.  303,  304, 
ii.  309  ff,  iii.  394. 

Guiot  de  Provins, 
his  Bible,  ii.  222,  223. 

Guy,  Sir,  romance  of, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  ii. 
201. 

Hadrian,  Emperor, 

interview  with  the  philoso- 
pher Secundus,  ii.  379,  380. 
Hales,  John  Wesley, 
i.  74  n.,  108  n. 

Halsam, 
i.  451. 

Hamilton,  Walter, 

i.  175. 

Hampole,  Richard  Rolle  de, 
Prick  of  Conscience,  i.  48,  49, 
334.  ii.  331- 
Harrington,  James, 

ii.  444. 

Harrison,  William, 
condemns  modernization  of 
Chaucer,  iii.  106,  109,  258. 
Harte,  Walter, 

on  change  in  language,  iii. 

144, 145 ; 

modernizes  ‘ Flee  from  the 
press,’  iii.  200 ; 
allusion,  iii.  186. 

Harvey,  Gabriel, 

iii.  58. 

Haughton,  William, 
one  of  the  writers  of  the  play 
of  Patient  Grissill,  iii.  69. 
Haweis,  Mrs.  H.  R., 
i.  105  n.,  106  n. 

Hawes,  Stephen, 
praise  of  Lydgate,  iii.  32  ; 
Pastime  of  Pleasure,  metre 
of,  iii.  305. 


4/6 


INDEX 


Hawkins’s  Life  of  Johnson, 
cited,  i.  299  n. 

Hawkwood,  Sir  John, 

Chaucer’s  mission  to,  i.  70. 
Hearne,  Thomas, 
on  parentage  of  Chaucer,  i. 
161 ; 

on  editions  of  Chaucer,  i.  282, 
iii,  242  ; 

on  Urry’s  plan,  i.  289,  293,  294; 
on  language  of  Chaucer,  ii. 

441 ; 

allusion,  iii.  151. 

Hebraic  element  in  modern 
civilization. 

The  Puritans  representatives 
of,  iii.  38. 

Hellenic  element  in  modern 
civilization, 

Chaucer  as  representative  of, 
iii.  38. 

Heloise, 
ii.  289,  290. 

Henry  IV. 

(See  Henry  of  Lancaster.) 
Henry  V., 

holograph  letter  of,  to  Henry 
IV.,  i.  105  ; 

Campsall  text  of  Troilus  and 
Cressida  made  for,  i.  240, 

341. 

Henry  VHI., 

commission  of,  to  Leland,  i. 

142: 

Tuke’s  dedicatory  epistle  to, 

i.  266,  ii.  169  ; 

exempts  works  of  Chaucer 
and  Gower  from  operation 
of  Act  of  Parliament,  ii. 
476; 

as  a Reformer,  iii.  39. 

Henry  of  Lancaster  (Henry  IV.), 
Gower’s  reference  to,  i.  45  ff ; 
counsellor  to  Richard  IL,  i. 

84; 

his  friendliness  to  Chaucer,  i. 
89,  90,  141 ; 

the  Knight  a possible  por- 
trait of,  i.  91  ff : 
allusion,  i.  1 10. 


Henryson,  Robert, 
his  Testament  of  Cressida,  i. 

460,  474,  iii.  20  ; 
admiration  for  Chaucer,  iii.  16. 
Henslowe,  Philip,  Diary  of, 
cited,  iii.  68. 

Hercules,  The  Story  of, 

ii.  184. 

Here  and  there,  Ryming  of, 
as  a test  of  genuineness,  ii. 

17-19. 

Heredity,  The  doctrine  of, 
ii.  529.  ' 

Hermes  Trismegistus, 

ii.  392. 

Heroic  verse, 

iii.  301-304,  306. 

(See  Conplett) 

Hertzberg,  Wilhelm, 
denies  genuineness  of  the 
Testament  of  Love,  i.  200- 
204. 

Heyrouns, 
vintners,  i.  13,  14. 

Heywood,  John, 
indebtedness  to  Chaucer,  iii. 
69. 

Hindley,  Rev.  J.  H., 

iii.  81. 

Hippisley’s 

Chapters  on  Early  English 
Literature  cited,  iii.  66,  275. 
Hippocrates,  medical  writer, 

ii.  393. 

Historia  Britojiitm. 

(See  Geoffrey  of  Mo7i77iout Jit) 
Historia  Lo77ibardzca. 

(See  Legenda  Aurea'.) 

Historia  M iscella , 

Chaucer’s  possible  knowledge 
of,  and  obligations  to,  ii. 

385^  386. 

Historia  Scholastica. 

(See  Peter  Co77iestor.) 
Historical  novel,  and  truth  of 
fact, 

iii.  389. 

History,  Literary,  Chaucer  in, 
(See  Table  of  Co7ite7its,  chap, 
viii) 


INDEX 


477 


Homer, 

Chaucer's  ignorance  of,  in  the 
original,  ii.  193,  258 ; 
mention  of,  in  connection 
with  the  Trojan  Legend,  i. 
304,  ii.  305,  308,314; 
allusions,  i.  137,  ii.  293,  354, 
429,  iii.  28,  42,  91,  157,  159, 
231,  362. 

Homes  of  Chaucer,  Known  : 
household  of  Prince  Lionel, 
i.  54.ii.47,  76; 

dwelling-house  at  Aldgate,  i. 


73  5 

tenement 


in  Westminster,  i. 


93; 

Homes  of  Chaucer,  Supposed  : 
John  Chaucer’s  house  in 
Thames  Street,  i.  14; 
Woodstock,  i.  103,  141,  175- 

177; 

Donnington  Castle,  i.  103, 
178-180; 

New  Elme,  i.  102,  178  ; 
at  confluence  of  the  Thame 
and  the  Isis,  i.  178. 

Honor  without  the  n, 
iii.  266. 

Horace, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  249,  261- 
264; 

Poetic  Art,  ii.  261,  262  ; 
Epistle  to  Lollius,  ii.  409,  410  ; 
allusions,  iii.  26,  102,  235,  441. 
Horn  Childe,  romance  of, 
Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  ii. 
201. 

Horne,  Richard  Hengist, 
edits  the  last  of  the  moderni- 
zations of  Chaucer,  iii.  217 
ff. 

Horner,  Francis, 
i.  194. 

Horstmann,  Carl, 
edition  of  The  Early  South- 
English  Legendary  cited,  i. 
^ 499  n. 

House,  Chaucer’s, 
i.  175,  176. 


House  of  Fame  (No.  19), 
autobiographic  material  in,  i. 

33,  34,  1 12,  215  ; 
mentioned  by  Leland,  i.  140  ; 
number  of  manuscripts  of,  i. 
239,  262  ; 

textual  errors  illustrated  from, 
i.  245  ; 

printed  by  Caxton,  i.  265  ; 
Bell’s  annotation  of,  i.  326 ; 
named  in  the  Legend  of  Good 
Women,  i.  412 ; 
named  in  the  Retractation,  i. 

413:  . 

named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.  432 ; 
not  named  in  Lydgate’s  list, 
i.  422  ; 

classed  in  this  work,  i.  504 
n. ; 

illustrations  from,  of  the  tests 
of  genuineness,  i.  387,  389, 
409,  ii.  22,  30,  31,  34,  45  n., 
49.  50^  7L  73.  1 14.  1 1 5.  127, 
128,  132,  133,  140,  143,  145, 
146,  149,  150,  152  ; 
illustrations  from,  of  the  inac- 
curacy of  Chaucer’s  schol- 
arship, ii.  180,  183,  184,  188, 
205  ; 

its  reference  to  Chaucer’s  love 
of  books,  ii.  198  ; 
books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  ii.  120,  214,  236, 
238,  240,  242-248,  250,  252, 
254,  255,  258,  279,  303,  308, 
314,  316,  343,  350,  355,  358, 
363,  381,  386,  390,  407,  410, 
iii.  397,  426 ; 

praised  by  Hawes,  iii.  32 ; 
modernization  of,  by  Pope, 
iii.  182,  200 ; 

Warton  on,  iii.  248  ; 

Chaucer’s  literary  art  and  at- 
titude towards  criticism,  as 
seen  in,  ii.  105,  iii.  286-288, 
306,  320,  368  ; 

incompleteness  of,  iii.  431, 
437,  438- 
Howitt,  Mary, 
iii.  214. 


478 


INDEX 


Hughes,  Mr.  John, 
offended,  iii.  361. 

Humorous  Tales,  The,  in  liter- 
ary history, 
iii.  358-363 ; 

their  excellence,  iii.  363,  364. 

Hunt,  Leigh, 

modernizations  of  Chaucer, 
iii.  208,  210-212 ; 
joins  in  the  last  of  the  mod- 
ernizations, iii.  214-229. 

Hunter,  Mr., 

on  the  seal  of  Chaucer,  i. 
106. 

Hurd,  Bishop, 

i.  325,  iii.  243. 

Hyginus, 

Chaucer’s  possible  obligation 
to,  ii.  287. 

Hypermnestra,  The  Story  of, 

ii.  232. 

Hypsypile,  The  Story  of, 
ii-  251,  313. 

‘ I have  a lady,  whereso  she  be  ’ 
(No.  55), 

added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Stow,  i.  440 ; 
its  genuineness  denied  by  F. 

Thynne,  i.  457 ; 
by  Tyrwhitt,  i.  475  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504 
n. 

‘I  undertake,’  ‘I  dare  say,’  ‘I 
dare  tell,’  ‘ I guess,’ 
use  of  the  phrases,  as  tests  of 
the  genuineness  of  the  Ro- 
mance of  the  Rose,  ii.  98, 
. 99.  548,  549- 

Imitations  of  Chaucer, 
by  Froissart,  iii.  13; 
by  early  Scotch  poets,  iii.  18- 
22  • 

by  Spenser,  iii.  45,  56 ; 
by  seventeenth-century  writ- 
ers, iii.  1 13-1 19  ; 
by  eighteenth  - century  writ- 
ers, iii.  1 19-132,  183. 

Imprisonment  of  Chaucer, 
Legend  of,  i.  180-200. 


‘In  the  season  of  Feverere  ’ 
(No.  52), 

added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Stow,  i.  440 ; 
its  genuineness  denied  by 
Tyrwhitt,  i.  475 ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504 
n. 

‘ In  womanhead,  as  authors  all 
write’  (No.  59), 
added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Stow,  i.  441 ; 
its  genuineness  denied  by 
Tyrwhitt,  i.  475  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504 
n. 

Incompleteness  of  Chaucer’s 
works, 

iii.  430-439- 

Innocent  III., 

De  Co7itej7iptu  Mtmdi  cited,  i. 
49,  ii.  366 ; 

Chaucer’s  translations  from, 
i.  412,  423,  426,  427,  ii.  296, 

329-334.  388. 

Inspired  - barbarian  view  of 
Chaucer, 

iii.  248,  293-298,  375. 
Invention, 

sphere  of,  iii.  399-401  ; 
not  the  necessary  accompa- 
niment of  genius,  iii.  402, 

403; 

of  tales,  iii.  414-416,  426. 

Ira,  De. 

(See  Se7teca.) 

Irrelevant  learning, 

Chaucer’s  intrusion  of,  iii. 

364-375- 

Irreverence  of  Chaucer’s  age, 
ii.  505,  506. 

Isabella,  Queen  Dowager, 
Funeral  of,  i.  54. 

Isidore, 
ii.  388. 

Isis,  the  Temple  of, 

Chaucer’s  blunder  as  to,  ii. 
183. 

Isle  of  Ladies,  The. 

(See  Drea77i,  Chaucers.') 


INDEX 


479 


‘ It  cometh  by  kind  of  gentle 
blood  ’ (No.  40), 
named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i. 

434; 

not  mentioned  by  Tyrwhitt, 

i.  478; 

classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 

‘ It  falleth  for  a gentleman  ’ 
(No.  39), 

named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.  434 ; 
not  mentioned  by  Tyrwhitt,  i. 

478; 

classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 
Italian  writers, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  223-249. 
lulus, 

Chaucer’s  mistake  as  to,  ii. 
184. 

‘ Iwis,’ 

use  of  the  word,  as  a test  of 
the  genuineness  of  the  Ro- 
mance of  the  Rose,  ii.  90, 
102,  539. 

Jack  Upland,  The  Tale  of  (No. 

65). 

added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
works  by  Stow,  i.  443  ; 
the  question  of  its  genuine- 
ness, i.  188,  461  n.,  476  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n, ; 
favorably  regarded  by  six- 
teenth - century  reformers, 

ii.  462. 

Jacob,  Giles, 

Lives  of  the  English  Poets 
cited,  i.  1 59,  186. 

Jacobus  de  Voragine, 

author  of  the  Legeiida  Aurca, 
ii.  320. 

James  I.  of  Scotland, 
i.  500,  iii.  18,  19,  304. 

James,  Francis, 

his  imitations  of  Chaucer,  iii. 
1 15,  1 16. 

Jeffrey,  Francis, 
i.  194. 

Jephson,  Rev.  John  Mounteney, 
i.  325. 


Jerome,  Saint, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  i.  307,  308  n., 
ii.  276,  290,  292-297,  388  ; 
Treatise  against  Jovinian,  ii. 
292  ff,  337,  364,  366,  379, 416, 
524,  528. 

Jews, 

Chaucer’s  attitude  towards,  as 
seen  in  the  Prioress’s  tale, 
ii.  490. 

J.  H., 

Advertisement  to  the  Read- 
er, in  reprint  of  1687,  iii. 
92. 

Joab, 

Chaucer’s  error  as  to,  ii.  188. 

John  of  Gaunt, 

his  grant  to  Chaucer,  i.  63  ; 
expedition  to  Spain,  i.  81  ; 
return  to  England,  i.  92  ; 
question  of  Chaucer’s  connec- 
tion with,  by  marriage,  i.  98, 
HI,  153; 

payment  by,  in  behalf  of  Eliza- 
beth Chaucer,  i.  100 ; 
arms  on  Thomas  Chaucer’s 
tomb,  i.  105  ; 

Chaucer  attached  to  party  of, 
i.  189 ; 

courtship  and  marriage  of,  i. 
21 1 : 

protector  of  Wycliffe,  ii.  478  ; 
allusions,  i.  21,  26,  54,  96, 

483. 

John  of  Northampton, 
i.  189,  196. 

John  of  Salisbury, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  362-364  ; 
Polycratzcus,  ii.  359, 362  ff,  372. 

Johnson,  Samuel, 

makes  Chaucer  a disciple  of 
Gower,  i.  148,  149  ; 
edition  of  Chaucer  contem- 
plated by,  i.  298,  299  ; 
on  Chaucer’s  introduction  of 
French  words,  ii.  445  ; 
his  criticism  of  Dryden,  iii. 
103,  232 ; 


INDEX 


480 

on  Pope’s  modernization  of 
The  House  of  Fame,  iii. 
184 ; 

on  Milton’s  anachronisms,  iii. 

386; 

allusions,  i.  7,  27,  ii.  444,  iii, 
186,  248. 

Joly,  A., 

Benoit  de  Sainte-More  et  Le 
Roman  de  Troie,  cited,  i. 

303.  ii-  312. 

Jonson,  Ben, 

first  poet-laureate,  i.  174; 
on  observance  of  unities  of 
time  and  place,  iii.  47  ; 
his  criticism  of  Spenser,  iii. 
61,  62,  64 ; 

allusions,  i.  334,  iii.  1 17. 

Joseph  of  Arimathea, 

i.  132. 

Josephus, 

Chaucer’s  ignorance  of,  in  the 
original,  ii.  258,  387. 

Jovius,  Paulus, 
i.  157. 

Judas  Maccabeus,  story  of, 
Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  ii. 

303- 

Jitgemen  du  Bon  Rot  de  Be- 
haigne. 

(See  Machault?) 

Junius,  Francis, 

unpublished  notes  on  Chau- 
cer, i.  281. 

Juvenal, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  249,  260, 
261,  419 ; 
allusion,  iii.  102. 

Keats,  John, 
i.  489,  ii.  191. 

Keightley,  Thomas, 
on  invention  of  the  Squire’s 
tale,  iii.  426. 

Kele,  Richard, 
publisher,  i,  269. 

Kenelm,  Legend  of, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  ii. 
326-328. 


Kinaston,  Sir  Francis, 
on  the  authorship  of  The 
Testament  of  Cressida,  i. 
460 ; 

his  Latin  translation  of  Troi- 
lus  and  Cressida,  iii.  76-82, 
84,  92,  104,  1 1 5,  1 1 7,  154; 
opposed  to  modernization  of 
Chaucer,  iii.  105,  106. 

Kissner,  Alfons, 

ii.  204. 

Knight  of  the  shire.  Qualifica- 
tions for, 
i.  81. 

Knighthood  attributed  to  Chau- 
cer, 

i.  1 50-152,  163. 

Knight’s  tale.  The, 
a paraphrase,  i.  206  ; 
illustrations  from,  of  textual 
errors,  i.  241,  279,  345  ; 
named  in  the  Legend  of  Good 
Women,  i.  412 ; 

imitated  in  the  Complaint  of 
a Lover’s  Life,  i.  481  ; 
illustrations  from,  of  the  tests 
of  genuineness,  i.  376,  392, 
403,  ii.  34,  43,  45  n.,  74,  84, 
1 14  ff,  122,  124,  127  ff,  135, 
139,  140,  142,  146  ff,  150,  151  ; 
illustration  from,  of  the  inac- 
curacy of  Chaucer’s  schol- 
arship, ii.  183 ; 

books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  ii.  204,  219,  225  ff, 
233,  239,  252,  381  ; 

Chaucer’s  opinions  as  shown 
in,  ii.  481,  513,  516,  531 ; 
in  literary  history,  iii.  20  n., 
67,  68,  248 ; 

Dryden’s  modernization  of, 

iii.  160,  162,  164-175,  189, 
231  ; 

Thurlow’s  modernization  of, 
iii.  203,  208 ; 

Horne’s  modernization  of  por- 
tions of,  iii.  225  ; 

Chaucer’s  literary  art  as  shown 
in,  iii.  328,355,372,  374,  376, 
377,  443- 


INDEX 


Koeppel,  Emil, 
cited,  ii.  271  n.,  333  n.,  384. 
Kolbing 

in  E7iglzsche  Stiidien,  ii.  324  n. 

Lai  dll  Trot, 
iii.  409. 

Lamb,  Charles, 
on  Godwin’s  conjecturing 
spirit,  i.  195. 

Lamech, 

Chaucer’s  error  as  to,  ii.  188. 
Lamentation  of  Mary  Magda- 
len, The  (No.  21), 
mentioned  by  Leland,  i.  140; 
named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i. 
432: 

printed  by  Pynson,  i.  435  ; 
the  question  of  its  genuine- 
ness, i.  475,  478  ; 
included  in  R.  Bell’s  edition, 

i.  478 ; 

classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 
Lampridius,  .^Elius, 

ii.  406. 

Lancelot  de  Lake,  Romance  of, 
ii.  304,  316,  368,  497. 

Landor,  Walter  Savage, 
on  Wordsworth,  iii.  209  ; 
declines  to  join  in  the  new 
scheme  of  modernization  of 
Chaucer,  iii.  214,  215  221; 
allusions,  iii.  252,  264. 
Langland,  William, 
three  texts  of  Piers  the  Plow- 
man, i.  236 ; 

his  versification  and  gram- 
mar, i.  333,  500,  iii.  299; 
character  of  his  vocabulary, 

ii.  450  ff ; 

attachment  to  the  established 
faith,  ii.  468,  495  ; 
his  attitude  towards  alchemy, 

ii.  501  ; 

diction  and  literary  methods, 

iii.  60,  61,  440 ; 
allusions,  i.  1 16,  iii.  261. 

Language  of  Chaucer, 

perils  to  the  text  from  ignor- 
ance of,  i.  248,  251-253  ; 

III.— 31 


481 

Urry’s  views  on,  i.  285-288  ; 
Morell’s,  i.  29.7,  298  ; 
Johnson’s,  i.  299 ; 

Gray’s,  i.  300 ; 

Tyrwhitt’s,  i.  306 ; 

Wright’s,  i.  316,  317-319  ; 
Southey’s,  i.  330,  335  ; 

Nott’s,  i.  332  ; 

Prof.  Child’s  examination  of, 

i- 335-339; 

as  affected  by  Chaucer’s  resi- 
dence in  the  North,  ii.  46- 

49.55.56,76; 

its  relations  to  the  English 
language,  ii.  430-458 ; 
assumed  obsoleteness  of,  iii. 

78,  80,  1 34-140 ; 
eighteenth  - century  miscon- 
ceptions of,  iii.  124 ; 
naturalness  of,  iii.  440-443. 

( See  Dialect ; Grammar  ; 
Grammatical  Rymiiig  Tests; 
Ryme.) 

Language,  Chaucer’s  Relations 
to. 

(See  Table  of  Contents,  chap, 
vil) 

Languages, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  ii. 
192,  193,  202-206. 

Laodamia, 

i.  417, 

ii.  258,  293. 

Lapidarius  of  Marbodus, 
ii.  343,  344. 

Latham,  R.  G.. 

on  Lollius,  ii.  409. 

Latin  authors, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  249-288. 
Latin  translation,  Kinaston’s, 
of  the  Troilus  and  Cressida, 
iii.  76-82. 

Latin  translations, 
value  of,  iii.  82-84. 
Laureateship  of  Chaucer,  Sup- 
posed, 

i.  63,  152,  174,  175. 

Lans  Serence. 

(See  Claudianl) 


482 


INDEX 


“ Learned  Chaucer,” 

ii.  171, 

iii.  94. 

Learning  of  Chaucer,  The. 

(See  Table  of  Contents,  chap. 

V.) 

Learning,  Signification  of, 

ii.  1 74-1 77. 

Leaulte  Vault  Richesse  (No.  74), 
added  to  lis-t  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Morris,  i.  451  : 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 
Lechler,  Gotthard, 
on  Chaucer’s  attitude  towards 
Wycliffe,  ii.  461. 

Leconfield,  Lord, 
i.  340. 

Legend,  The  Chaucer. 

(See  Table  of  Contents,  chap. 
7/.) 

Legend  of  Good  Women,  The 
(No.  5), 

autobiographic  material  in,  i. 
34,35.  358, 488,  490, 49L493, 
111.  336; 

mentioned  by  Leland,  i.  139; 
two  prologues  of,  i.  250; 
illustrations  from,  of  textual 
errors,  i.  260,  261,  338  ; 
Scotch  manuscript  of,  i.  371  ; 
its  list  of  Chaucer’s  works,  i. 

411,412,  424,  475; 
named  in  the  Retractation,  i. 

413,414; 

named  in  the  Man  of  Law’s 
tale,  i.  416-418 ; 
named  in  Lydgate’s  list,  i. 
421; 

named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i. 

431 ; 

classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. ; 
illustrations  from,  of  the  tests 
of  genuineness,  i.  387,  403, 
405,408,  ii.  23,  30,  73,  85,  95, 
1 14,  1 1 5,  1 1 7,  124,  126,  129, 
131,  134,  140  ff,  144,  145,  147 

ff,  155; 

illustrations  from,  of  the  inac- 
curacy of  Chaucer’s  schol- 
arship, ii.  185,  187  ; 


its  reference  to  Chaucer’s  love 
of  books  and  of  nature,  ii. 

199; 

books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  ii.  220,  231,  232, 
236,  240,  250,  251,  257,  259, 
276,  280,  288,  294,  297,  314, 
375,  387,  400; 

Chaucer’s  opinions  as  shown 
in,  ii.  502,  508,  510,  512  ; 
prologue  of,  imitated  by  Doug- 
las, iii.  21  ; 

praised  by  Hawes,  iii.  32  ; 
Powell’s  modernization  of,  iii. 
217  ; 

Chaucer’s  literary  art  as  shown 
in,  iii.  335-339,  369,  379, 403  ; 
incompleteness  of,  iii.  431. 

Legend  of  the  Saints  of  Cupid, 
The, 

identical  with  The  Legend  of 
Good  Women,  i.  417,  418. 

Lege7ida  Aurea, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  320-322. 

Leicester,  Earl  of, 

opposes  the  modernization  of 
Chaucer,  iii.  102,  105,  106  ; 
induces  Cowley  to  read  Chau- 
cer, iii.  104. 

Leland,  John, 

his  life  of  Chaucer,  and  refer- 
ences to,  i.  15,  131-149,  152, 
153,  158,  160,  161,  164,  167, 
171,  172,  177,  266  n.,  267,  ii. 
169,  432,  463,  iii.  35,  406; 
his  list  of  Chaucer’s  works,  i. 
456,  468. 

L’Estrange,  Rev.  A.  G.  K., 
on  wit  and  humor  of  Chaucer, 
iii.  290. 

Letter  of  Cupid,  The  (No.  25), 
mentioned  by  Leland,  i.  140; 
Bale’s  reference  to,  i.  149; 
Oldys’s  reference  to,  i.  150 
n. ; 

named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.  433  ; 
assigned  to  Occleve,  i.  457  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. ; 
literary  merits  of,  iii.  24. 


INDEX 


483 


Leyden,  John, 

first  to  print  Orison  to  the 
Holy  Virgin,  i.  449,  450. 

Leyser,  Polykarp, 

Historia  Poetarum  et  Poema- 
tum  Medii  PEvi  cited,  ii. 
342  n. 

Liberal,  The, 
iii.  211. 

Liber  de  Amore,  &^e., 

Liber  Cojisolatioiiis  et  Consilii. 
(See  Albertajio  da  Brescia.) 

Liber  de  Montibus,  Sylvis,  &-^c. 
(See  Boccaccioi) 

Lichfield,  Bishop  of, 
ii.  326. 

Life,  Duration  of,  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  i.  48,  49. 

Life  of  Chaucer,  The. 

(See  Table  of  Contents,  chaf.  ii) 

Lindner,  F.,  in  Etiglische  Stu- 
dien, 

cited,  ii.  ii. 

Lintot,  Bernard, 
i.  290  ff. 

Lionel  of  Antwerp,  Duke  of 
Clarence, 

Chaucer  in  the  household  of, 
i.  20,  21,  28  ff,  53,  86,  ii.  48  ; 
second  marriage  of,  i.  1 57. 

Lipscomb,  Rev.  William, 
his  modernizations  of  Chau- 
cer, iii.  197-200,  202,  223. 

Literary  controversies  in  the 
sixteenth  century  as  related 
to  Chaucer,  iii.  46-65. 

Literary  tests  of  genuineness  as 
applied  to  Romance  of  the 
Rose,  ii.  78-158 ; 
general  nature  of  the  transla- 
tion, ii.  78-86 ; 

distinctive  forms  of  expres- 
sion comm.on  to  Chaucer 
and  the  translator  of  the 
Roniaii  de  la  Rose,  ii.  86- 
121  ; 

parallelisms  identifying  the 
two,  ii.  121-1 53  ; 
a use  of  synonyms  common 
to  the  two,  ii.  153-158. 


Literature, 

as  a check  upon  linguistic 
change,  iii.  149; 

Chaucer’s  attitude  towards, 

iii.  323-344. 

Lives  of  the  Saints, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  322-329  ; 
a favorite  kind  of  reading  in 
the  Middle  Ages,  ii.  322  ; 
general  character  of,  illustrat- 
ed, ii.  487-489. 

Livy, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  249,  257, 
265,  276,  278-284,  285  ; 
story  of  Lucrece,  ii.  279,  280 ; 
story  of  Virginia,  ii.  279,  281, 
285  ; 

not  referred  to  by  Vincent  of 
Beauvais,  ii.  378. 

Lloyd,  Robert, 

on  the  rudeness  of  Chaucer’s 
verse,  iii.  257. 

‘ Lo  !’ 

frequency  of  its  occurrence  in 
Chaucer,  ii.  90. 

Lollardy,  the  new  sect  of, 
Gower’s  denunciation  of,  ii. 
468. 

Lollius,  unknown  author, 

ii.  225,  233,  234,  236,  405-41 1, 

413-415.  iii.  405. 

London  Magazine,  The, 

i.  310. 

‘ Look  well  about,  ye  that  lovers 
be  ’ (No.  57), 

added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Stow,  i.  440 ; 
attributed  to  Lydgate,  i.475  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 

Lorens,  Frere, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  2 1 1 , 2 1 2 ; 
La  Somme  de  Vices  et  de  Ver- 
tus,  ii.  21 1. 

Lords,  Guillaume  de, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  6,  7,  218, 
220,  iii.  41 1. 


484 


INDEX 


Louis  XI.  of  France, 
his  belief  in  judicial  astrology, 
ii.  497. 

Love-poetry, 

conventionality  in  expression 
of,  i.  216,  217  ; 

of  the  sixteenth  century,  i. 
218-220 ; 

Chaucer’s  shorter  pieces  of,  i. 

358-361,364; 
his  manner  in,  i.  488. 

Love-suit,  Chaucer’s  supposed, 

i.  59,  60,  21 1-22 1. 

Lover’s  Life,  The  Complaint 
of  a. 

(See  Black  Knight,  The  Com- 
piaiitt  of  the.) 

Lowndes’  Bibliographer’s  Man- 
ual, 

i.  297. 

Lucan, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  249,  253, 
254,255,258,  274,419; 
Pharsalia,  ii.  253,  254. 
allusions,  ii.  256,  354. 

Lucilius, 

allusion,  iii.  102. 

Lucretia,  The  Story  of, 

i.  261, 

ii.  187,  251,  257,  279,  293,  297, 

iii.  12,  379. 

Lucretius, 

Chaucer’s  probable  ignorance 
of,  iii.  405. 

Lybeaus  Disconus,  Romance  of, 
Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  ii. 
201. 

Lycurgus, 

Gower’s  error  as  to,  ii.  190. 

Lydgate,  John, 

his  mention  of  Thomas  Chau- 
cer, i.  109 ; 

list  of  Chaucer’s  works,  and 
references  to,  i.  201,  358, 
419-422,  423,  425,  429,  488, 

ii.  4,  243,  510 ; 

poems  of,  included  in  some 
editions  of  Chaucer’s  works, 
i.  438, 441, 445, 447, 448; 


poems  in  Chaucer’s  wcnrks  as- 
signed to,  i.  451,  456,  474, 
475,  481,  482,  485; 
his  grammar  and  versifica- 
tion, i.  500,  iii.  304; 
his  translation  of  Boccaccio’s 
Fall  of  Princes,  ii.  159,  iii. 

394; 

inaccuracy  of  his  learning  il- 
lustrated, ii.  190; 

Sandras’s  statement  concern- 
ing, ii.  234; 

his  mention  of  ‘Trophe,’  ii. 
408 ; 

on  Chaucer  and  the  language, 

ii. 432; 

in  literary  history  of  Chaucer, 

iii.  II,  12,  23,  25-27,  28,  31  ; 
diction  of,  iii.  60,  61  ; 
allusions,  ii.  361,  iii.  394. 

Lyndesay,  Sir  David, 
praise  of  Chaucer,  iii.  16. 
Lynne,  Nicholas,  mathemati- 
cian, 

i.  134,  145. 

ii.  399. 

Macer,  ^milius, 

iii.  378. 

Machault,  Guillaume  de, 
Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  i.  423,  ii.  212- 

215; 

Dit  du  Lion,  i.  423,  ii.  214  ; 

Dit  dit  Rente  de  de  Fortune,  ii. 
213  ; 

Dit  de  la  Fontaine  Anioreuse, 
ii.  213,  214 ; 

Jttgenien  du  Bon  Roi  de  Be- 
haigtie,  ii.  213 ; 

Sandras’s  view  of  Chaucer’s 
indebtedness  to,  iii.  409  ff. 
Macrobius, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  180,  249, 
265,  272,  277,  278  ; 
Conimentarius  ex  Cicerone  m 
' Somtiiuni  Scifionis,  ii.  277. 
Magdalene,  Mary,  Homily  upon. 
(See  Ortgen.) 


INDEX 


485 


Mai,  Angelo, 

ii.  277. 

Malone,  Edmund, 
his  Life  of  Dryden  cited,  ii. 

497  n.,  iii.  87  n.,  loi,  159 ; 
on  the  diction  of  Spenser,  iii. 
64,  65. 

Man  of  Law’s  tale.  The, 
autobiographic  material  in,  i. 

21,  31 ; 

textual  errors  illustrated  from, 
i.  278,  279 ; 

its  list  of  Chaucer’s  works,  i. 
416-418,  424 ; 

the  tests  of  genuineness  illus- 
trated from,  i.  403,  ii.  21,  54, 
72, 1 14, 1 18, 129,145,147,148; 
books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  i.  426,  427,  ii.  210, 
254,  268,  318,  319,  321,  331, 
385,  394  n.,  396,  414; 
Chaucer’s  opinions  as  shown 
in,  ii.  485,  489,  491,  498  ; 
Brooke’s  modernization  of, 
iii.  190,  194; 

Chaucer’s  literary  art  as  shown 
in,  iii.  354; 

its  want  of  relation  to  narra- 
tor, iii.  436. 

Manciple’s  tale.  The, 
illustrations  from,  of  the  tests 
of  genuineness,  ii.  30,  62,  85, 
1 1 5 n.,  129, 130, 145, 148,  149, 

155; 

illustration  from,  of  the  inac- 
curacy of  Chaucer’s  schol- 
arship, ii.  421  ; 

books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  ii.  219,  261,  269, 

359.  367 ; 

Wordsworth’s  modernization 
of,  iii.  210,  227  ; 

Hunt’s  modernization  of,  iii. 
217. 

Mann,  Sir  Horace, 

iii.  152. 

Mansor  Aphorison, 

ii.  415. 

Manuscript, 

perils  of  transmission  by,  i. 
228-238,  357; 


test  of  genuineness,  and  rec- 
ord of  authorities  often 
furnished  by,  i.  368. 
Manuscripts  of  Chaucer’s  works, 
age,  number,  and  value  of,  i. 

239,  240,  262,  340; 
errors  of,  i.  241-247.  251- 

253; 

variations  of,  due  to  Chaucer 
himself,;.  248,  250; 

" alterations  of  the  text  in,  by 
scribes,  i.  253-258  ; 
trustworthiness  of  some,  i. 

259; 

Thynne’s  search  for,  i.  266, 
267  ; 

^Campsall  MS.,  i.  240,  340 ; 

^ Caxton  MSS.,  i.  242,  263; 

“ Examinatur  Chaucer”  MS., 
i.  266; 

Cambridge,  i.  257  n.,  308,  340, 

399.  403 ; 

Ellesmere,  i.  278,  308  n.,  324, 
-540,  ii.  45  n.,  412  n.,  414, 

415; 

Hengwrt,  i.  308  n.,  340,  ii.  412 
' n.,414; 

Harleian,  i.  257,  308  n.,  315, 
316,  318,  320,  322  ff,  327,  328, 
337,  338,  340,  398,  399,  403, 
447,  ii-  42 ; 

Lansdowne,  i.  323  ; 

Petworth,  i.  340,  403  ; 

Oxford,  i.  340 ; 

British  Museum,  i.  340 ; 
loss  of,  i.  357-359; 

Scotch  MS.  of  The  Legend  of 
Good  Women,  i.  371  ; 
Romance  of  the  Rose  MS.,  ii. 

10,  59;__ 

Fairfax,  ii.  73. 

(See  Collatio7i  of  Maimscripts?) 
Mapes,  Walter, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  367-370; 
Valerius  ad  Rufinum  de  71071 
Duce7ida  Uxore,  ii.  368  ; 

De Nttg is  Curialiimi,  ii.  359  n., 

369- 

(See  Valery) 


486 


INDEX 


Marbodus, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  343,  344, 

419; 

De  Ge7m7iis,  ii.  343. 

March,  Earl  of, 
appoints  Chaucer  forester  to 
North  Petherton  Park,  i.  86. 
Marcia  Catoun, 
ii.  294. 

Mari,  John  de, 
commissioner,  i.  66. 

Marie  of  France, 

ii.  21 5, 

iii.  409. 

Markland,  Jeremiah, 

his  modernization  of  the 
Friar’s  tale,  iii,  190, 191,  223. 
Marlowe,  Christopher, 
the  perfecter  of  blank  verse, 
iii.  48 ; 

allusion,  iii.  44. 

Marriage  and  married  life  of 
Chaucer, 
i.  95-98,  112-115. 

Mars,  The  Complaint  of  (No. 

23)- 

Leland’s  mention  of,  i.  140; 
termed  Brooch  of  Vulcan  in 
Lydgate’s  list,  i.  421,  425  ; 
named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.  433  ; 
classed  in  this  w^ork,  i.  504  n. ; 
the  tests  of  genuineness  illus- 
trated from,  i.  392,  404,  ii. 
148  ; 

sources  of,  ii.  253,  iii.  451  ; 

R.  Bell’s  modernization  of,  iii. 
217  ; 

versification  of,  iii.  308. 

Marsh,  George  P., 

Origin  and  History  of  the 
English  Language  cited,  ii. 
9,  1 1 8 ; 

on  the  language  of  Chaucer 
and  Langland,  ii.  451,  452  ; 
comparison  between  reputa- 
tions of  Chaucer  and  Gow- 
er, iii.  66,  67. 

Marshall,  Rev.  Edward, 

i.  175  n. 


Marsyas, 

Chaucer’s  error  as  to,  ii.  183. 
Marteau  and  Croissandeau, 
edition  of  the  Ro7na7i  de  la 
Rose,  ii.  5 n.,  9 n. 

Martianus  Capella, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  350,  355- 

358,419; 

De  Niiptus  PhilologicB  et  Me7'- 
curii,  ii.  356. 

Mason,  George, 
edits  some  of  Occleve’s  poems, 
iii.  24. 

Mason,  William, 

Isis,  an  Elegy,  i.  168  ; 
his  imitation  of  Chaucer,  iii. 
126-130 ; 

Walpole’s  letter  to,  iii.  158. 
Matr 177107110,  De. 

(See  Senecal) 

Medea,  The  Story  of, 

i.  418, 

ii.  314. 

Mediaeval  works  and  authors, 
Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  301-386, 
417  ff. 

Medical  literature, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  ii. 

393-395- 

Megacos77ios. 

(See  BerTtardiis  Silvestrisl) 
Meister,  Ferdinand, 

edition  of  Dares  Phrygius,  ii. 
260. 

Melibee  et  de  Da77ie  Prude7ice, 
Le  Livre  de. 

(See  Meu77g,Jea7i  del) 
Melibeus,  The  tale  of, 
its  prose,  i.  205  ; 
textual  errors  illustrated  from, 

i.  319.  321 ; 

named  in  Lydgate’s  list,  i. 
421; 

the  tests  of  genuineness  illus- 
trated from,  ii.  23,  149, 155  ; 
books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  i.  321,  ii.  210,  384, 
388; 


INDEX 


487 


Lipscomb’s  modernization  of, 
iii.  198. 

Mena,  Juan  de, 

Chaucer  claimed  to  be  an  im- 
itator of,  iii.  406. 

Mennis,  Sir  John, 
admiration  for  Chaucer,  iii. 
85,87,88; 

imitations  of  Chaucer,  iii.  118. 
Meon,  Dominique  Martin, 
edition  of  the  Roman  de  la 
Rose,  ii.  5 n.,  9 n.,  221  n. 
Merchant’s  tale.  The, 
the  tests  of  genuineness  illus- 
trated from,  ii.  114  n.,  130, 
132,  140,  142,  143,  144  ff; 
books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  ii.  218,  228,  255, 
270,  271,  295,  318,  319,  356, 
360,  366,  374, .384,  393; 
Chaucer’s  opinions  as  shown 
in,  ii.  509,  522 ; 

commonplaced  by  Milton,  iii. 

76; 

Pope’s  modernization  of,  iii. 
179,  180,  185  ; 

the  question  of  morality  in, 

iii.  357; 

Chaucer’s  literary  art  as  shown 
in,  iii.  380 ; 

lack  of  revision  shown  in,  iii. 
435- 

Merciless  Beauty  (No.  69), 
first  printed  by  Percy,  and 
added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  R.  Bell,  i.  449  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 
Meres,  Francis, 

PalladisTamia cited,  iii. 42,  50. 
“ Merry  ” Chaucer, 
iii.  360. 

Messahala,  Arabian  astronomer, 
Chaucer’s  obligations  to,  ii. 
397,  398. 

Metamorphoses. 

(See  Ovid.) 

Meung,  Jean  de, 

Roma7t  de  la  Rose  (his  part 
in),  ii.  6,  7,  220,  221,  252,  285, 

363; 


Le  Livre  de  Melibee  et  de 
Dame  Prudence,  translation 
by,  ii.  21 1 ; 

Le  Testament  de,\\.  221  ; 

Les  Remojistrances,  etc.,  ii.  221 . 
Michel,  Dan,  of  Northgate, 
his  Ayenbite  of  Inw it,  ii.  211. 
Michel,  Francisque, 
edition  of  the  Ro7nan  de  la 
Rose,  ii.  5 n.,  9 n.,  151  n.,  219 
n.,  220  n.,  282  n.,  285  n.,  393 
n. 

Microcosmos. 

(See  Ber7tardus  Sylvestrisi) 
Migne,  Jacques  Paul, 

Patrologia  Latma,  ii.  336  n., 

389  n. 

Military  life  of  Chaucer, 
i.  21,  53-58,  62,  ii.  478. 

Miller’s  tale.  The, 
the  Night-spell  in,  i.  351  ; 
the  tests  of  genuineness  illus- 
trated from,  ii.  45  n.,  115, 
129,  130,  145; 

books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  ii.  249,  361,  395  ; 
Cobb’s  modernization  of,  iii. 
188; 

the  question  of  morality  in, 
iii.  198,  350,  351. 

Milnes,  Richard  Monkton  (Lord 
Houghton), 

joins  in  the  last  of  the  mod- 
ernizations of  Chaucer,  iii. 
214. 

Milton,  John, 

illustrations  from  facts  in  his 
life,  i.  126,  215,  216  ; 
illustrations  from  his  writings 
and  literary  methods,  i.  232, 
246,  382-384 ; 

his  knowledge  of  and  admira- 
tion for  Chaucer,  ii.  171,  iii. 

37,75.76; 

alleged  participation  in  Phil- 
lips’s sketch  of  Chaucer,  iii. 

91; 

Landor’s  comparison  of,  with 
Chaucer,  iii.  215 ; 
anachronisms  of,  iii.  386 ; 


INDEX 


488 

his  indebtedness  to  others,  iii. 
422,423; 

allusions,  i.  167,  471,  iii.  127, 
257.  259,  262. 

Minor  Poems,  The. 

Leland’s  mention  of,  i.  140; 
Thynne’s  text  of,  i.  278  ; 

R.  Bell’s,  i.  325  ; 
great  number  of,  originally,  i. 
358-361,422; 

Furnivall’s  Odd  Texts  of,  iii. 

310; 

Skeat’s  edition  of,  iii.  31 1 n. 
Minot,  Lawrence, 
ii.  102. 

Miracle  Plays, 

their  irreverent  spirit,  ii.  506. 
Mirror  for  Magistrates, 
metre  of,  iii.  305, 
its  dolorous  stories,  iii.  332, 
Mitford,  Mary  Russell, 
her  admiration  for  Chaucer, 
iii.  262. 

Modernizations  of  Chaucer, 
by  Dryden,  iii.  1 54-1 79; 
by  Pope,  iii.  179-185  ; 
by  Betterton,  Cobb,  Ogle,  and 
other  eighteenth  - century 
writers,  iii.  185-200; 
by  nineteenth -century  writ- 
ers, iii.  202-229  5 
tendency  of,  iii.  240. 

Money,  Value  of,  in  the  four- 
teenth century, 
i.  58,  64. 

Monk’s  tale.  The, 
named  in  Lydgate’s  list,  i. 
421; 

illustrations  from,  of  the  tests 
of  genuineness,  i.  392,  404, 
499  n.,  ii.  63,  84,  128,  138, 
142,  145  ; 

illustrations  from,  of  the  inac- 
curacy of  Chaucer’s  schol- 
arship, ii.  1 84,  186,  187  ; 
books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  ii.  219,  224,  231  ff, 
235,  236,  239,  254,  267,  274, 
284,  285,  303,  324  ff,  408, 

413; 


Chaucer’s  literary  art  as  shown 
in,  iii.  308,  333,  336; 
incompleteness  of,  iii.  434. 

Monstrelet, 
iii.  453. 

Montague,  Charles, 
in  Addison’s  list  of  the 
greatest  English  poets,  iii. 
96. 

Monthly  Review,  The, 
i.  310. 

Montrose,  James  Graham,  Mar- 
quis of, 
i-  363- 

Moral  Proverbs  of  Chaucer, 
i- 435- 

Morality,  The  question  of, 
in  Chaucer’s  works,  iii.  261, 
344-364 ; 

in  eighteenth-century  imita- 
tions of  Chaucer,  iii.  122. 

Morell,  Dr.  Thomas, 
his  edition  of  the  Prologue 
and  Knight’s  tale,  i.  294- 
298,  344,  iii.  189,  240 ; 
on  Chaucer’s  versification,  iii. 
255. 

Morley,  Prof.  Henry, 
age  of  witnesses  in  the  Scrope 
and  Grosvenor  controver- 
sy, i.  25. 

Morning  star  of  our  literature, 
Chaucer  as  the,  iii.  98. 

Morris,  Dr.  Richard, 

his  edition  of  Chaucer’s 
works,  i.  327,  466  n.,  ii.  6 n., 
10,  II,  45  n. ; 

his  additions  to  list  of  Chau- 
cer’s poems,  i.  451  ; 
his  edition  of  Chaucer’s  Boe- 
thius, ii.  205  n. 

Mother  Hubbard’s  tale,  Spen- 
ser’s, 
iii.  56. 

‘ Mother  of  God  and  Virgin  un- 
defouled.’ 

(See  Orison  to  the  Holy  Vir- 

gm.) 

Mulcaster,  Richard, 
i.  172  n. 


INDEX 


489 


Musarum  Deliciae, 
iii.  88,  1 1 8. 

Naturalness  of  Chaucer, 
iii.  259,  440-443- 

Nepos,  Cornelius, 

alleged  translation  and  com- 
mendation of  the  history  of 
Dares  Phrygius,  ii.  306. 

Nero,  The  Story  of, 
ii,  219,  284,  285. 

‘ Never  a del  ’ (final  ryme), 
use  of  the  phrase,  as  a test  of 
the  genuineness  of  the  Ro- 
mance of  the  Rose,  ii.  91, 544. 

New  Elme, 

i.  102,  178. 

Nichols’s  Illustrations  of  Liter- 
ary History, 
quoted,  i.  325, 

Nicolas,  Sir  Nicholas  Harris, 
his  life  of  Chaucer,  and  refer- 
ences to,  i.  23,  25,  50,  58,  63, 
65,  70  n.,  96,  99,  III,  1 1 8, 
1 99,  200  ; 

denies  the  autobiographic 
value  of  the  Testament  of 
Love,  i.  201  ; 

on  the  learning  of  Chaucer, 

ii.  172,  203,  204. 

Nigellus  Wereker, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  338-341  ; 
Speculinn  Stultoriim,  ii.  338. 

Night-spell,  The, 
in  the  Miller’s  tale,  i.  351. 

Nine  Ladies  Worthy,  The  (No. 

50). 

added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Stow,  i.  440 ; 
its  genuineness  denied  by 
Tyrwhitt,  i.  475  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 

Notes  and  Queries, 
cited,  i.  450. 

Nott,  Dr.  George  Frederick, 
his  theory  of  Chaucer’s  versi- 
fication, i.  331  ff. 

Nova  Poetria. 

(See  Vmesau/.) 


I Nude,  The,  in  art, 

iii.  348,  356,  358,  359. 

Niigis  Curiahuni^  De. 

(See  Afapes.) 

Numa  Pompilius, 

Gower’s  error  as  to,  ii.  190. 

Nun’s  Priest’s  tale,  The, 
the  tests  of  genuineness  illus- 
trated from,  i.  404,  499,  ii. 
22,  33,  50,  1 1 5,  128,  129  ff, 
134,  140,  142,  147,  149; 
books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  i.  303,  ii.  215,  224 
n.,  266,  272,  275,  293,  297, 
304,  326,  336,  338,  341,  342, 
358,  360,  368,  372,  380,  383; 
Chaucer’s  opinions  as  shown 
in,  ii.  497,  533  ; 

Dryden’s  modernization  of, 
iii.  162,  191  ; 

Chaucer’s  literary  art  as  shown 
in,  iii.  327,  374.418. 

Nuptiis  Philologies  et  Mercurii, 
De. 

(See  Martia7ttis  Capella.) 

Nut-Brown  Maid,  The  ballad 
of  the, 

ii.  81, 

iii.  29,  230. 

Oak,  Chaucer’s, 
i.  179,  180. 

Obligations  to  other  writers, 
Chaucer’s  acknowledgment 
of  his,  iii.  420-429. 

(See  Originality^ 

Occleve,  Thomas, 

his  reference  to  Chaucer,  i. 
42;  _ 

portrait  of  Chaucer,  i.  50,  95  ; 
The  Letter  of  Cupid,  i.  149, 

150.457; 

at  Merton  College,  i.  170  ; 
works  of  Chaucer  attributed 
to,  i.  450,  458  ; 

his  admiration  for  Chaucer, 
iii.  II,  23; 

his  literary  claims,  iii.  23-25, 
28; 

versification  of,  iii.  304. 


490 


INDEX 


Octosyllabic  verse, 

ii.  409, 

iii.  301,  303,  306. 

‘ Of  their  nature  they  greatly 
them  delight  ’ (No.  48), 
added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Stow,  i.  440 ; 
its  genuineness  denied  by 
Tyrwhitt,  i.  475  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 
Ogle,  George, 

scheme  of  modernization  of 
Chaucer,  iii.  189-191,  192, 
193,  194,  197,  217; 
his  modernization  of  the 
Clerk  of  Oxford’s  tale,  iii. 
189,  194. 

“ Old  Chaucer,” 
iii.  93,  95. 

Old  English  Miscellany, 
cited,  ii.  337  n. 

“ Old  Grizzle,” 

Chaucer  styles  himself,  i.  39. 
Oldfield,  Mrs., 
iii.  139. 

Oldys,  William, 
on  date  of  Chaucer’s  death,  i. 
150;  ^ 

assists  in  reviving  interest  in 
Chaucer,  iii.  242. 

‘ O merciful  and  O merciable  ” 
(No.  53), 

added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Stow,  i.  440  ; 
its  genuineness  denied  by 
Tyrwhitt,  i.  475 ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 
‘O  mossy  quince  hanging  by 
your  stalk’  (No.  56), 
added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Stow,  i.  440 ; 
its  genuineness  denied  by 
Tyrwhitt,  i.  475  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 
Origen, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  ii. 

299,  300 ; 

the  spurious  Homily  upon 
Mary  Magdalene,  i.  423,  ii. 

300. 


Originality,  Chaucer’s, 

iii.  391-430. 

Origines  upon  the  Maudelayn, 
Leland’s  error  as  to,  i.  140 ; 
named  in  the  Legend  of  Good 
Women,  i.  412,  475  ; 
named  in  Lydgate’s  list,  i.  421, 

423; 

probable  original  of,  ii.  300. 
Orison  to  the  Holy  Virgin  (No. 
70), 

printed  by  Leyden,  and  added 
by  R.  Bell  to  the  list  of 
Chaucer’s  poems,  i.  449, 

450; 

classed  in  this  work,  i.  503  n. ; 
furnishes  no  special  evidence 
as  to  religious  belief,  ii.  485 ; 
authorship  of,  iii.  25. 

Orosius,  Paulus, 

Chaucer’s  possible  knowledge 
of,  ii.  287. 

Ortelius,  Abraham, 

ii.  440. 

Orthography  of  Chaucer,  The 
question  of  the  modernization 
of,  iii.  264-279. 

Ottava  Rima, 

iii.  304,  308. 

‘ Out  of  doute,’  ‘ Out  of  drede,’ 
use  of  the  phrases,  as  tests  of 
the  genuineness  of  the  Ro- 
mance of  the  Rose,  ii.  92, 
544,  545,  iii.  452. 

Outspokenness  of  Chaucer  and 
Shakspeare  compared, 
iii.  363. 

Ovid, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  183,  214, 
249,  250,  251,  252,  258,  266, 
267, 280, 388, 416, 419,  iii.  354, 
368,  424,  426,  427  ; 
Metamorphoses,  ii.  183,  214, 
246,  251,  287  n.,  382 ; 
Heroides,  ii.  251  ; 

Fasti,  ii.  251,  281  ; 

Remedium  Amoris,  ii.  251,  41 1 
n. ; 

Art  of  Love,  ii.  251,  289,  290 ; 


INDEX 


491 


Dryden’s  preference  of  Chau- 
cer to,  iii.  108 ; 

allusions,  ii.  256,  386,  iii.  14, 
157,  232. 

Pageship  of  Chaucer,  The  ques- 
tion of, 

i.  28,  30,  31,  53. 

Palemon  and  Arcite, 
named  in  the  Legend  of  Good 
Women,  i.  412. 

(See  Kjiighfs  tale,  Thel) 

Pallio,  De. 

(See  Tertulliaiil) 

Painphilns  de  Ainore, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  370-372, 
388,  419; 

attributed  to  Pamphilus  Mau- 
rilianus,  ii.  371  n. 

Paphos, 

Gower’s  error  as  to,  ii.  190. 

Parallel  between  Dryden  and 
Chaucer,  iii.  100. 

Parallelisms  between  Chaucer’s 
admitted  works  and  the 
Romance  of  the  Rose,  ii. 
121-153; 

of  remote  resemblance,  ii. 

121-135; 

of  close  resemblance,  ii.  135- 
153- 

‘ Pardee,’ 

use  of  the  oath,  as  a test  of 
the  genuineness  of  the  Ro- 
mance of  the  Rose,  ii.  91, 
99.  543- 

Pardoner  and  Tapster,  The  Ad- 
ventures of  the  (No.  67), 
added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
works  by  Urry,  i.  289,  448  ; 
its  genuineness  denied  by 
Tyrwhitt,  i.  476 ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504 
n. 

Pardoner’s  tale.  The, 
the  literary  tests  of  genuine- 
ness illustrated  from,  ii.  1 1 5, 

1 19,  132,  143,  148,  149 ; 
books  and  authors  used  or  j 


named  in,  i.  427,  ii.  219,  270, 

.296,  333.  362,  373.  386,  394; 

Lipscomb’s  modernization  of, 
iii.  197 ; 

Hunt’s  modernization  of,  iii. 
212 ; 

Mrs.  Cooper  prints  prologue 
to,  iii.  243 ; 

its  introduction  of  irrelevant 
learning,  iii.  366. 

Parentage  of  Chaucer, 
facts  as  to,  i.  12,  13  ; 
fictions  as  to,  i.  133,  150,  151, 
161,  162. 

Parker  Society  Publications, 
cited,  ii.  321  n.,  iii.  41  n. 
Parkinson,  John, 

Herbal  cited,  ii.  50  n. 
Parliament,  Chaucer  a member 
of, 

i.  81,  82. 

Parliament  of  Fowls,  The  (No. 
10), 

mentioned  by  Leland,  i.  140; 
autobiographic  material  in,  i. 
476,  177,  21 1 ; 

textual  errors  illustrated  from, 

i.  242,  243,  247  ; 
printed  by  Caxton,  i.  265  ; 
named  in  the  Legend  of  Good 

Women,  i.  412  ; 
named  in  the  Retractation,  i. 

413;  . 

named  in  Lydgate’s  list,  i.  420 ; 
named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.  432  ; 
indebtedness  to,  of  other 
poems,  i.  456,  482,  487 ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. ; 
illustrations  from,  of  the  tests 
of  genuineness,  i.  398  n.,402, 

ii.  68,  69,  1 1 5,  128,  142,  144, 

147.  149; 

its  reference  to  Chaucer’s  love 
of  books,  ii.  198  ; 
books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  ii.  226,  240  ff,  256, 
257,  268,  276,  278  n.,320,  345, 

iii.  428  ; 

Chaucer’s  relations  to  religion 
as  shown  in,  ii.  507  ; 


492 


INDEX 


Warton’s  imitation  of  a pas- 
sage in,  iii.  126 ; 

Prior’s  allusion  to,  iii.  234; 
abrupt  ending  of,  iii.  320,  431  ; 
Sandras  on,  iii.  41 1. 

Parson’s  tale.  The, 
its  prose,  i.  205  ; 
its  place  in  the  plan  of  the 
Canterbury  tales,  i.  436  ; 
illustrations  from,  of  the  tests 
of  genuineness,  ii.  21  ff,  141, 
144,  145,  147,  148  ; 
illustration  from,  of  the  inac- 
curacy of  Chaucer’s  schol- 
arship, ii.  421  ; 

books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  ii.  21 1,  299,  381, 
388; 

Chaucer’s  opinions  as  shown 
in,  ii.  499 ; 

characterization  of  the  Par- 
son in  its  prologue,  iii.  40 ; 
Lipscomb’s  criticism  of,  iii. 
198. 

Pastime  of  Pleasure,  Hawes’s, 
character  of,  iii.  32. 

Paternoster,  The  white, 
i-  351- 

Paulus  Diaconus, 

reputed  author  of  Histo7'ia 
Miscella,  ii.  385. 

Peacham,  Henry, 

his  praise  of  Chaucer,  iii.  no. 

Pecuniary  affairs  of  Chaucer, 
releases  his  rights  in  Thames 
Street  house,  i.  12  ; 

Henry  de  Wakefield  advances 
him  money,  i.  62  ; 
commutation  of  his  daily 

' pitcher  of  wine,  i.  64 ; 

leases  the  Aldgate  dwelling,  i. 

73; 

robbed,  i.  84 ; 
financial  distress,  i.  87-89  ; 
revival  of  prosperity,  i.  90 ; 
leases  a tenement  in  West- 
minster, i.  93. 

(See  Civil  Offices ; Diplomatic 
Missions;  Pensions,  Grants, 
a7id Payments  ; Wardshipsi) 


Pelerinage  de  la  Vie  Hiimame. 

(See  Deguillevillei) 

Penelope, 
i.  417,  i 

li.  258,  293. 

Pensions,  grants,  and  payments 
to  Chaucer, 

i.  20,  28,  30,  61  ff,  70,  82,  87  ff, 

94: 

to  Philippa  Chaucer,  i.  95  ff. 
Pepys,  Samuel, 
account  of  the  abduction  of 
Miss  Mallett,  i.  78  ; 
of  his  becoming  acquainted 
with  Chaucer’s  works,  iii. 
85,  86; 

suggestion  to  Dryden,  iii.  87, 

177; 

allusion,  iii.  88. 

Percival,  romance  of,  Chaucer’s, 
knowledge  of,  ii.  196,  201. 
Percy,  Bishop, 

prints  Merciless  Beauty,  i. 

449; 

his  estimate  of  one  of  Dun- 
bar’s poems,  iii.  20. 

Percy,  Sir  Thomas, 
commissioner,  i.  69. 

Percy  Society,  The, 
i.  316,  340,  iii.  32  n. 

Persius, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  249,  264, 
265,  271,  419 ; 
allusion,  iii.  102. 

Peter  Comestor, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
indebtedness  to,  ii.  372-375 ; 
Historia  Scholastica,  ii.  373, 

374. 

Petit,  Thomas, 
publisher,  i.  269. 

Petrarch,  Francis, 

his  alleged  meeting  with 
Chaucer,  i.  67,  68,  156,  157; 
Leland’s  reference  to,  i.  136, 

137; 

at  Prince  Lionel’s  marriage,  i. 

157; 

Chaucer’s  error  as  to,  ii.  186  ; 


INDEX 


Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  224,  225, 
229  If,  233,  235,  236, 408,  410, 
iii.  424; 

indifference  to  his  native 
tongue,  ii.  455  ; 
his  interest  in  the  story  of 
Griselda,  iii.  341,  343  ; 
allusion,  iii.  136. 

Petrus  Alphonsus, 
ii.  388. 

Petrus  de  Riga, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  334-336, 

419: 

Atirora,  ii.  335. 

Philip,  Sir  John, 
first  husband  of  Alice  Chau- 
cer, i.  103. 

Philip  III., 
ii.  211. 

Philippa,  attendant  of  the  wife 
of  Prince  Lionel, 
i.  29. 

Philippa,  Queen  of  England, 
i.  96. 

“ Philistine,” 

as  an  epithet  in  the  nine- 
teenth century,  iii.  250,  251. 

Phillips,  Edward, 
his  Theatruni  Poetarum  cited, 
i.  159,  171,  174,  iii.  91. 

Phillips,  John, 

i,  290. 

Philomela,  The  Story  of, 

ii.  251. 

Phyllis,  The  Story  of, 
ii.  232. 

Physiologits, 

ii.  336,  337,419- 

Physiologiis  de  Naturis  XII. 
Aiiimaliuin. 

(See  Theobaldus) 

Piaget,  M.  Arthur, 
on  Complaint  of  Venus,  iii. 
450,451. 

Pilgrim’s  tale.  The, 
confused  with  The  Plowman’s 
tale,  i.  461  ff  ; 

favorably  regarded  by  six- 


493 

teenth  - century  reformers, 
ii.  462. 

Pindar, 
ii.  404. 

Pindarus  Thebamis, 
ii.  387. 

Pinkerton,  John, 
his  letter  to  John  Nichols 
quoted,  i.  325,  326  ; 
scheme  for  improving  the 
English  tongue,  iii.  139. 
Pits,  John, 

his  life  of  Chaucer,  and  refer- 
ences to,  i.  1 32,  1 33,  149-1 52, 
154,  158,  ii.  169,  iii.  35,  36. 
Pity,  The  Complaint  to  (No. 
12), 

Leland’s  mention  of,  i.  140; 
its  passion  not  real,  i.  221 ; 
printed  before  1 532,  i.  429  ; 
named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i. 

432; 

classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. ; 
allusion,  iii.  310. 

Plagiarism,  the  translator  of  the 
Roman  de  la  Rose  guilty  of, 
if  not  Chaucer, 

ii.  153,  158-160,  165,  166; 
claimed  as  the  prerogative  of 

the  man  of  genius,  iii.  393  ; 
the  principle  applied  to  Chau- 
cer, iii.  393  ff ; 

the  statements  of  Wright  and 
Emerson,  iii.  394. 

Plagues,  The,  of  Egypt, 

Lydgate’s  error  as  to,  ii.  190. 
Plane  til  N’aturi^,  De. 

(See  Alanus  de  Insnlisl) 

Plato, 

Chaucer’s  ignorance  of,  in  the 
original,  ii.  193,  387,  402  ; 
Republic,  ii.  278 ; 

Banquet,  ii.  402 ; 
allusions,  ii.  392,  iii.  378. 
Player,  Fame  of  the,  liable  to 
perish, 

iii.  139. 

Pleyndamour,  romance  of, 
Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  ii. 
201. 


494 


INDEX 


Pliny  the  elder, 

Chaucer’s  possible  knowledge 
of,  ii.  287 ; 

one  of  Marbodus’s  authori- 
ties, ii.  344. 

Plot  and  story,  Chaucer’s  pro- 
gressive development  in 
handling, 

iii.  296,  316-322,  416-420. 

Plowman’s  tale.  The  (No.  41), 
confused  with  Langland’s 
poem,  i.  139,  173  n.,  iii.  109; 
its  genuineness  denied  by 
Dart,  i.  188 ; 

added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
works  in  edition  of  1542,  i. 
269,  436 ; 

the  question  of  its  genuine- 
ness, i.  460-473,475,  ii.  466, 
467,  iii.  36 : 

classed  in  this  work,  i.  504 
n.  ; 

favorably  regarded  by  the 
sixteenth  - century  reform- 
ers, ii.  462,  464,  iii.  35,  75  ; 
attributed  to  Chaucer  by  Dry- 
den,  iii.  108. 

Poems,  The,  of  Geoffrey  Chau- 
cer Modernized  (1841), 
the  last  of  the  modernizations, 
iii.  213-229. 

Poetical  Register  and  Reposi- 
tory of  Fugitive  Poetry, 
iii.  21 1 n. 

Poet-laureate. 

(See  Laureateship^ 

Poetry,  Theory  of  improvement 
of,  as  held  in  the  eighteenth 
century, 
iii.  251,  252. 

Poets,  early.  Characteristics  of, 
iii.  322,323. 

Poggio  Bracciolini, 
ii.  259. 

Pole,  John  de  la, 
i.  103. 

Pole,  William  de  la, 
i.  103, 141. 

Polycraticiis. 

(See  JoJm  of  Salisbury^ 


Pope,  Alexander, 
on  Chaucer’s  introduction  of 
Provengal  words,  ii.  447  ; 
his  imitations  of  Chaucer,  iii. 
120 ; 

on  change  in  language,  iii. 
141  ; 

his  ignorance  of  Early  Eng- 
lish, iii.  151  ; 

his  modernizations  of  Chau- 
cer, iii.  158,  161,  179-185, 
187,  190,  1 91,  198,  204,  238, 
246,  361  ; 

on  Chaucer,  iii.  234-237  ; 
allusions,  i.6, 7,  iii.  96, 100, 127, 
147,  157,  159. 

Popean  couplet, 
iii.  136,  303. 

Popularity,  Continuous,  of  great 
writers, 
iii.  7-9; 

Chaucer  no  exception,  iii.  9, 
10. 

Powell,  Thomas, 
joins  in  the  last  of  the  mod- 
ernizations of  Chaucer,  iii. 
217. 

Praise  of  Women,  A (No.  18), 
mentioned  by  Leland,  i.  140; 
named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i. 
432; 

the  question  of  its  genuine- 
ness, i.  475,  477 ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504 

n. 

Prayer  to  the  Virgin  Mary. 

(See  ABC,  Chaucer  sb) 
Preston,  Thomas, 
prologue  to  his  Cambyses,  ii. 
401. 

Printing, 

its  effect  on  the  preservation 
and  determination  of  origi- 
nal text,  i.  229,  230,  262. 
Prior,  Matthew, 
imitations  of  Chau  ; i.  5, 
121,  124,  131,  18'  . ; ; 
imitations  of  Spe  1,  ^ 

allusion,  iii.  230. 


INDEX 


495 


Prioress’s  tale,  The, 
the  tests  of  genuineness  illus- 
trated from,  ii.  51  ; 
sources  of,  ii.  324  ; 

Chaucer’s  religious  opinions 
as  shown  in,  ii.  485, 490, 491; 
Wordsworth’s  modernization 
of,  iii.  209,  226. 

Procerus, 
i.  245. 

Proletariat,  Literary,  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century, 
iii.  193. 

Prolixity,  Chaucer’s  freedom 
from, 

iii.  327-330. 

Prologue  to  the  Canterbury 
Tales, 

autobiographic  material  in,  i. 

9L93; 

textual  errors  and  variations 
illustrated  from,  i.  241,  249, 

275; 

its  need  of  revised  punctua- 
tion, i.  343 ; 

its  need  of  further  annota- 
tion, i.  352 ; 

illustrations  from,  of  the  tests 
of  genuineness,  i.  392,  ii.  13, 
28,  64,  98,  127  ff,  133,  135, 
138,  140,  141,  143,  145,  146, 
150.  537,  538; 

books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  ii.  193.  219,  393  ; 
references  to  characters  in,  ii. 
184,  422,  456,  470,  471,  475, 
516,  518,  528,  iii.  37,  87,  333, 

334; 

references  to  character  of  the 
Parson,  ii.  460,  461,  479 ; 
of  the  Clerk  of  Oxford,  ii. 
422,  423  ; 

of  the  Knight,  i.  9 r ff,  ii.  480 ; 
modernizations  of,  iii.  1 86, 1 89, 
190,  216,  224,  226  ; 
modernizations  of  the  charac- 
ter of  the  Parson,  iii.  177, 
186,  200,  201  : 

the  moral  question  as  shown 
in,  iii.  349. 


Pronan,  James, 
commissioner,  i.  66. 

Pronunciation  of  Chaucer, 
sixteenth-century  errors  as  to, 
iii.  54-58; 

on  the  question  of  conform- 
ing to  the  modern,  iii.  271- 
277. 

Proper  names, 
alteration  of,  i.  244,  246  ; 
unknown,  i.  245. 

Prophecy,  Chaucer’s  (No.  38), 
named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.  434 ; 
metrical  prayer  erroneously 
appended  to,  i.  450 ; 
not  specifically  mentioned  by 
Tyrwhitt,  i.  478 ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 

Prose-style  of  Chaucer, 
i.  205-207  ; 

compared  with  that  of  the 
Testament  of  Love,  i.  207- 
210. 

Prosperity  (No.  73), 
added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Morris,  i.  451  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 

Protection,  Letters  of,  issued  to 
Chaucer, 

i.  62,  69,  87,  88. 

Prothero’s  Memoir  of  Henry 
Bradshaw, 

ii.  413  n. 

Proven  gal  words, 

Chaucer’s  alleged  introduc- 
tion of,  ii.  446-449. 

Proverb  against  Covetise  (No. 

43). 

added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Stow,  i.  439 ; 
its  genuineness  accepted  by 
Tyrwhitt,  i.  475  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 

Proverb  against  Negligence 

■ (No.  44), 

added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Stow,  i.  439  ; 
its  genuineness  accepted  by 
Tyrwhitt,  i.  475  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 


INDEX 


496 

Proverbs  of  Chaucer, 

i.451. 

Pseustis, 

i.  245. 

Ptolemy, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  186,  395- 

397; 

Syntaxes,  ii.  395  ; 

Tetrabiblos  (assigned  to),  ii. 

398; 

allusion,  iii.  378. 

Punctuation  of  Chaucer’s  text. 
Necessity  of  a revision  of,  i. 
342-346. 

Puritans,  Popularity  of  Chaucer 
with  the, 

ii.  461-463,  474,  iii.  34-41* 
Purse,  Chaucer’s  Complaint  to 

his  (No.  34), 
quoted,  i.  89 ; 

printed  before  1 532,  i.  429 ; 
named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i. 

434; 

assigned  to  Occleve,  i.  458  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. ; 
Horne’s  modernization  of,  iii. 
225. 

Puttenham,  George, 
on  the  diction  of  poetry,  iii. 
60  ; 

on  Gower,  iii.  71  ; 

on  ‘ riding  ryme,’  iii.  305  ; 

allusion,  iii.  66. 

Pycard,  Geoffrey, 

i.  96. 

Pycard,  Philippa, 

i.  96,  97. 

Pynson,  Richard, 

his  edition  of  Chaucer’s  works, 
and  references  to,  i.  264, 
265,  413  n.,  430,  iii.  33; 
Thynne  denies  genuineness 
of  two  pieces  printed  in,  i. 
435- 

Quantity  of  Chaucer’s  verse, 

i. 428,  444,  448,455.  476,  503. 

ii.  3,  6,  8, 

iii.  450. 


Quibbles,  Verbal, 

~ ii.  223, 
iii.  319. 

Quotations,  Chaucer’s, 
character  of,  ii.  265,  418. 

Raleigh,  Sir  Walter, 

i.  363. 

Rambeau,  Dr.  A., 
original  of  the  House  of  Fame, 

ii.  243,  248. 

Rapttt  ProserpmcB,  De. 

(See  Clat(dm7i.') 

Ravaliere,  M.  de  la, 

ii.  212. 

Razis,  medical  writer, 
ii-  393- 

Realism,  Chaucer’s, 

iii.  390. 

Recitation,  Perils  of  publication 

by, 

1.  227,  228. 

Reeve’s  tale.  The, 
illustrations  from,  of  the  tests 
of  genuineness,  i.  386,  ii.  48 
ff,  84,  115  n.,  131  ; 
books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  i.  31 5,  319,  ii.  216, 
228,  229,  iii.  413,  414; 
Chaucer’s  religious  opinions 
as  shown  in,  ii.  520 ; 
Betterton’s  modernization  of, 

iii.  186; 

Horne’s  modernization  of,  iii. 
217,  227 ; 

morality  of,  iii.  198,  223,  351. 
Refiner  of  the  language,  Chau- 
cer as  a, 
ii.  431-437. 

Reformers  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, 

Chaucer’s  popularity  with,  ii. 
461-465,474,  iii.  34-41. 
Religion,  Chaucer’s  relations 
to. 

(See  Table  of  Co7itents,  chap, 
vil) 

Religious  belief.  Tendencies  of, 
in  Chaucer’s  time, 

ii.  492-495- 


INDEX 


497 


Religious  poems  of  Chaucer, 
ii.  485-491. 

Remedmvi  Amor  is. 

(See  Ovid.) 

Remedy  of  Love,  The  (No.  22), 
mentioned  by  Leland,  i.  140; 
named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.  433  ; 
its  genuineness  denied  by 
Tyrwhitt,  i.  475  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. ; 
allusion  to,  by  Addison,  iii. 

97. 

Remojistrances,  Les,  on  La  Com- 
plaint de  Nature  a V Ale hy- 
miste  Errant. 

(See  Mettng,Jean  del) 

Renart,  Roinan  de, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  215-217, 
iii,  418. 

Republica,  De. 

(See  Cicero) 

Reputation  of  Chaucer, 
vicissitudes  in,  iii.  4,  5 ; 
among  contemporaries,  iii. 
10-15; 

in  Scotland,  iii.  15-18  ; 
in  fifteenth  century,  iii.  22  ff ; 
in  sixteenth  century,  iii.  33  ff, 

65  ff; 

in  seventeenth  century,  iii.  72 
ff,  92  ff , 98  ff , 1 1 2 ff ; 
in  eighteenth  century,  iii.  237 
ff.243ff; 

in  Georgian  period,  iii.  258  ff ; 
at  present,  iii.  263, 
Retractation,  The, 
its  list  of  Chaucer’s  works,  i. 
412 ; 

literary  history  and  genuine- 
ness of,  i.  41 3 -41 5,  447,  iii. 
40. 

Retters,  The  town  of, 
its  geographical  site,  i.  56,  57, 
iii.  452,  453. 

Return  from  Parnassus,  The, 
the  imitation  of  Chaucer  in, 
iii.  116; 

styles  Chaucer  “merry,”  iii. 
360. 


Reverence,  Chaucer’s  lack  of, 

ii.  506-509. 

Rhetorical  structure,  as  a test 
of  genuineness, 
i.  376,  377,  398,  399- 

Richard  II., 

Gower’s  reference  to,  i.  43,  45 

ff; 

favors,  commissions,  pay- 
ments, and  pension  to 
Chaucer,  i.  69,  70  n.,  81,  89, 
90,  141  ; 

confirms  pension  of  Philippa 
Chaucer,  i.  95  ; 

gives  an  appointment  to 
Thomas  Chaucer,  i.  102, 
1 10 ; 

allusions,  i.  83,  93,  ii.  325,  iii. 
. 335- 

‘ Riding  ryme,’ 

iii.  305. 

Riley,  Henry  Thomas, 
i.  165. 

Ritson,  Joseph, 
on  loss  of  songs  and  lays  of 
Chaucer,  i.  360 ; 
ascribes  The  World  so  Wide 
to  Halsam,  i.  451  ; 
on  Occleve,  iii.  25  ; 
on  Lydgate,  iii.  26. 

Robbery  of  Chaucer  by  high- 
waymen, 
i.  84. 

Robert  of  Gloucester, 
i.  499, 
iii.  299. 

Rochester,  John  Wilmot,  Earl 
of, 
i.78. 

Roet,  Sir  Payne, 

Chaucer’s  assumed  marriage 
to  daughter  of,  i.  98,  99, 1 1 1, 
154,  155- 

Rogers,  Prof.  J.  E.  Thorold, 
i.  64. 

Roman  centurion  at  Caper- 
naum, 

Chaucer’s  error  as  to,  ii.  188. 

Roman  Gestes,  The. 

(See  Gesta  Romanornm) 


111.-32 


498 


INDEX 


Roman  de  la  Rose,  Le, 

Gower’s  message  to  Chaucer 
suggested  by,  i.  480  ; 
as  original  of  the  Romance  of 
the  Rose,  ii.  3-166  ; 
Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  193,  206, 
208,  212,  217-223,  248,  252, 
281,  285,  347,  363,  393,  417, 
526. 

(See  Table  of  Coritents,  chap, 
zv.  iz. ; Lorris  ; Meting  1) 
Romance  of  the  Rose,  The  (No. 

2), 

alleged  period  of  composi- 
tion, i.  59 ; 

mentioned  by  Leland,  i.  139; 
its  punctuation,  state  of,  i. 

346; 

named  in  Legend  of  Good 
Women,  i.  41 1 ; 
omitted  in  the  Retractation, 

i.  414,  422  ; 

named  in  Lydgate’s  list,  i.  420 ; 
not  printed  till  1532,1.429; 
named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.  431 ; 
length  of,  i.  444,  ii.  7,  8 ; 
quoted  in  the  Pilgrim’s  tale, 

1.465;, 

Chaucer’s  Dream  apparently 
indebted  to,  i.  483  ; 
genuineness  of,  i.  399, 428,  504, 

ii.  3-166, 200, 537-551 

a dual  authorship  of,  inde- 
fensible, ii.  1 1-13 : 
objections  to  Chaucer’s  au- 
thorship of,  controverted, 

ii.  17-77; 

anonymous  authorship  of,  not 
probable,  ii.  79-81  ; 
style  of,  identified  with  that  of 
Chaucer’s  admitted  works, 
bv  general  features,  ii.  15, 
^6,  78-86: 

by  forms  of  expression  com- 
mon to  both,  ii.  86-121  ; 
by  parallelisms  of  idea  and 
expression,  ii.  121-153; 
by  a characteristic  use  of 
synonyms,  ii.  153-158; 


sources  of.  ii.  209,  222,  223  ; 
commonplaced  by  Milton,  hi. 

76; 

versification  of,  hi.  306  ; 
its  use  of  wzthoiiten  drede  or 
out  of  drede,  a correction, 
ih.  452. 

(See  Table  of  Contents,  chap, 
zv.  ill) 

Romano,  Julio, 
ih.  385. 

Ros,  Sir  Richard, 
i.  474. 

Roscommon,  Earl  of, 
his  Essay  on  Translated  Verse 
cited,  ih.  94; 

in  Addison’s  list  of  the  great- 
est English  poets,  hi.  96. 
Rossetti,  William  Michael, 
comparison  of  Chaucer’s  Troz- 
Ills  and  Cresszda  with  Boc- 
caccio’s Fzlostrato,  i.  341,  ii. 
205  n.,  227,  228,  235,  241, 
313- 
Roundel, 
hi.  312. 

Rowe,  Nicholas, 
hi.  188. 

Rufinum,  In. 

(See  Claudzan.) 

Rye,  Walter, 
discoveries  by,  i.  14  n. ; 
quoted,  i.  27. 

Ryme, 

as  a test  of  genuineness,  i. 

372-376,  388-398.  ii-  57-65, 
75-77; 

its  superiority  to  alliterative 
verse,  iii.  300. 

Ryme  Royal, 

i-  333,  376, 

lii.  195,  304-306. 

Rymer,  Thomas, 
on  Chaucer’s  indebtedness  to 
the  Provengal,  ii.  446,  447  ; 
A Short  View  of  Tragedy 
quoted,  ii.  447  ; 
his  Fcedera  cited,  i.  14  n.,  63 
n.,  67  n.,  72  n.,  157  n.,  ii. 
207  n. 


INDEX 


499 


Rymes,  unusual, 
the  existence  of,  as  a test  of 
genuineness,  i.  375,  398,  ii. 

59-65. 

Ryming  verse  (of  type  used  in 
romances  and  tales  of  ad- 
venture), 
iii.  299,  300 ; 

burlesqued  in  the  Tale  of  Sir 
Thopas,  iii.  300. 

Sackville,  Thomas, 

introducer  of  blank  verse  into 
• the  drama,  iii.  48. 

Saint  Peter,  Sister  of, 
i.35i. 

Samothes  Gigas, 
i.  132. 

Samson  and  Delilah, 

Chaucer’s  interpretation  of 
the  story  of,  ii.  187. 

Sandras,  E.  G., 

on  obligations  of  Frois- 
sart to  Chaucer,  i.  245,  iii. 

13; 

on  obligations  of  Chaucer  to 
French  writers,  ii.  213,  214, 
222  ' 

on  obligations  of  Chaucer 
to  Italian  writers,  ii.  234, 

on  Agathon  and  Zanzis,  ii.  402, 

411 ; 

on  Chaucer’s  originality,  iii. 
407-412. 

Satire  in  the  Middle  Ages, 
its  favorite  objects  of  attack, 
ii.  7,  263. 

Savile,  Sir  Henry, 
his  edition  of  Bradwardine’s 
De  Causa  Dei,  ii.  382  n. 
Scalby,  John, 

Chaucer  assigns  his  pensions 
to,  i.  83. 

Scepticism, 

prevalence  of,  in  Chaucer’s 
time,  ii.  494,  495  ; 
sceptical  attitude  of  Chaucer’s 
mind  towards  all  subjects, 
ii.  495-50.5. 


Schmitz,  Leonhard, 
his  Life  of  Chaucer,  in  mod- 
ernizations of  1841,  iii.  217. 
Scholarship  of  Chaucer, 
accuracy  of,  ii.  177-189,  420- 
426. 

Science  and  scientific  literature, 
Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  ii. 

389-393. 

Scogan,  Henry, 

Leland’s  mention  of,  i.  136  ; 
his  poem,  i.  431, 433,  iii.  10. 
Scogan,  Llenry,  Chaucer’s  Epis- 
tle to  (No.  32), 

autobiographic  material  in,  i. 

36-40,  87,  361,  iii.  289 ; 
printed  before  1 532,  i.  429  ; 
named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i. 

433; 

classed  in  this  work,  i.  504 
n. ; 

its  reference  to  Tullius,  ii.  272. 
Scotch  writers.  The  early, 

Chaucer’s  popularity  wdth,  iii. 
1 5-18 ; 

imitations  of  Chaucer  by,  iii. 
18-22. 

Scots  Magazine,  The, 
i.  310. 

Scott,  Sir  Walter, 
his  review  of  Godwin’s  Life  of 
Chaucer,  i.  194,  195  ; 
on  Chaucer’s  D'ozlus  and Cres- 
sida,  ii.  228  ; 

on  Dryden’s  modernization  of 
Chaucer,  iii.  160,  165,  232  ; 
character  of  his  comments  on 
Chaucer,  iii.  259 ; 
anachronisms  of,  iii.  389  ; 
on  invention,  iii.  403  ; 
allusion,  i.  330. 

Scrope,  Sir  Richard  le, 
his  controversy  with  Sir  Rob- 
ert Grosvenor,  i.  18,  19  n., 
56,  57,  188,  iii.  453. 

Seal  of  Chaucer,  Supposed, 
i.  106,  107. 

Second  Nun’s  tale.  The, 

named  in  Legend  of  Good 
Women,  i.  412  ; 


500 


INDEX 


illustrations  from,  of  the  tests 
of  genuineness,  i.  374, 398  n., 
399,404,  ii.  45  n.,  144; 
books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  ii.  239,  321,  324, 

329.  388 ; 

Chaucer’s  religious  opinions 
as  shown  in,  ii.  485,  486- 
489,  491  ; 

lack  of  revision  shown  in,  iii. 

435- 

Secreta  Secretorum, 

ii.  392. 

Selby,  Walford  Baking, 
communications  by,  i.  60  n., 
86  n.,  88  n. ; 
quoted,  i.  1 18. 

Selden,  John, 

his  praise  of  Chaucer’s  learn- 
ing, ii.  171,  397,  39S. 

Self-consciousness  of  Chaucer, 

iii.  295,  296,  323-325. 

Seneca, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  249,  265, 
267-271,  388,  iii.  452  ; 

De  Brevitate  VitcE,  ii.  268  ; 

Ad  Helvia77i  Matre77i  de  Co7t- 
solatio7ie,  ii.  269 ; 

De  Vita  Beat  a,  ii.  269 ; 

De  Be7iejiciis,  ii.  270 ; 

Epistola  Ixxxiii.,  ii.  270 ; 

De  Ira,  ii.  271,  320 ; 

De  Matr 177107120,  ii.  295  ; 
Epistola  ii.,  iii.  452  ; 
allusions,  ii.  256,  iii.  14. 

Senior, 
ii.  392. 

Settle,  Elkanah, 

i-  334. 

Shakspeare,  William, 

his  literary  art,  i.  350,  iii.  47, 
48,  120,  294 ; 

in  literary  history  of  Chaucer, 
iii.  67,  68 ; 

modernization  of  his  orthog- 
raphy and  pronunciation, 
iii.  1 50,  268,  276,  277  ; 
conventional  comparison  of, 
with  Chaucer,  iii.  290-293  ; 


his  outspokenness  compared 
with  Chaucer’s,  iii.  363,  364; 
anachronisms  of,  iii.  384,  385  ; 
his  originality,  iii.  401,  404  ; 
allusions,  i.  50,  126,  131,  189, 
303,  310,  ii.  223,  238,  247,  iii. 
4,  90,  223,  259,  262,  362. 

Shepherd’s  Calendar,  The, 
Spenser’s,  iii.  42-44. 

Shipman’s  tale.  The, 
the  literary  tests  of  genuine- 
ness illustrated  from,  ii.  84, 
141,147; 

alleged  source  of,  ii.  228  ; 
lack  of  revision  shown  in,  iii. 
435- 

Shirley,  John, 

on  the  original  of  Fortune,  ii. 
208  ; 

on  the  genuineness  of  ‘ The 
longe  nightes  'when  every 
creature,’  iii.  310. 

‘Shortly  (for)  to  say,’ ‘ Shortly 
(for)  to  tell,’ 

use  of  the  phrases,  as  tests  of 
the  genuineness  of  the  Ro- 
mance of  the  Rose,  ii.  95, 
96,  547. 

Sibbald,  James, 
his  theory  of  Chaucer’s  versi- 
fication, i.  329,  330. 

Sidney,  Sir  Philip, 

on  the  unities  of  time  and 
place,  iii.  47  ; 

on  the  diction  of  poetry,  iii. 
60 ; 

on  its  gradual  improvement, 
iii.  252. 

Simeon  Metaphrastes, 

ii.  323. 

Singer,  Samuel  Weller, 
i.  450,  454. 

Skeat,  Prof.  Walter  William, 
on  a disputed  reading,  i.  279; 
his  preliminary  essay  in  Bell’s 
edition,  i.  325  ; 

on  ryme  of  the  preterite  and 
past  participle,  i.  399,  400; 
his  edition  of  the  Tale  of 
Gamelin  cited,  i.  447  n. ; 


INDEX  501 


his  additions  to  the  list  of 
Chaucer’s  poems,  i.  452  ; 
on  the  date  of  the  Plowman’s 
tale,  i.  461  n. ; 

accepts  the  Ballade  against 
Women  Unconstant,  i.  504; 
the  objections  against  the 
genuineness  of  the  Ro- 
mance of  the  Rose  as  stated 
by,  examined,  ii.  17-77  ; 
on  the  originals  of  the  Canter- 
bury Tales,  ii.  221,  232  n. ; 
on  the  original  of  the  House 
of  Fame,  ii.  243; 
on  Avicenna,  ii.  394  n. ; 
on  the  original  of  the  Astro- 
labe, ii.  397 ; 

his  edition  of  Chaucer’s  Mi- 
nor Poems,  iii.  31 1 n. ; 
recent  discovery  by,  iii.  449  ; 
acknowledgment  to.  Intro- 
duction, xxvii. 

Skelton,  John, 

his  Philip  Sparrow  quoted, 
iii.  52  ; 

allusion,  iii.  61. 

Skinner,  Stephen, 

on  Chaucer  as  a corrupter  of 
the  language,  ii.  442-444, 

451 ; 

his  Etymological  Dictionary 
cited,  ii.  442. 

Smith,  Alexander, 

on  change  in  language,  iii. 
150; 

on  Dryden’s  and  Pope’s  mod- 
ernizations of  Chaucer,  iii. 
161. 

Smith,  Rev.  Dr.  James, 
iii.  88. 

‘ So  mote  I thee,’  ‘ So  mote  I go,’ 
use  of  the  phrases,  as  tests  of 
the  genuineness  of  the  Ro- 
mance of  the  Rose,  ii.  loi, 
550.  551- 

Soam.es,  Sir  William, 
his  translation  of  Boileau’s 
Art  Poetique,  iii.  102. 

Socrates, 

Spenser’s  error  as  to,  ii.  191  ; 


the  story  of  the  wife  of,  ii. 
294; 

allusion,  iii.  14. 

Solinus, 

his  Polyhistor,  ii.  287  ; 
Marbodus’s  use  of,  as  an  au- 
thority, ii,  344. 

Solomon, 

Parables  or  Proverbs  of,  ii. 
289,  290. 

Solys,  William  de, 

Chaucer’s  wardship  of,  i.  65. 

Somer,  John,  mathematician, 

i.  134,  145, 

ii.  399. 

‘ Sometime  the  world  so  stead- 
fast was  and  stable’  (No. 
29), 

named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.  433  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 

Somme  de  Vices  et  de  Virttis,  La. 
(See  Lorens,  Frerei) 

Somnitim  Scipionis. 

(See  Cicero  ; Macrobiusi) 

‘ Son  of  Priamus,  gentle  Paris 
of  Troy  ’ (No.  54), 
added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Stow,  i.  440 ; 
its  genuineness  denied  by  Tyr- 
whitt,  i.  475  ; 

classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 

‘Sooth  (for)  to  say,  (The),’ 
‘ Sooth  (for)  to  tell,  (The),’ 
use  of  the  phrases,  as*tests  of 
the  genuineness  of  the  Ro- 
mance of  the  Rose,  ii.  94,  95, 
102,  546,  547. 

‘ Soothly  (for)  to  say,’  ‘Soothly 
(for)  to  tell,’ 

use  of  the  phrases,  as  tests  of 
the  genuineness  of  the  Ro- 
mance of  the  Rose,  ii.  94, 
95,  546,  547. 

Sophocles, 

iii.  157. 

Southey,  Robert, 
his  review  of  Godwin’s  Life 
of  Chaucer,  i.  195  ; 
on  Chaucer’s  versification,  i. 
33o>  333-335  ; 


INDEX 


502 

on  the  rudeness  of  the  lan- 
guage in  Chaucer’s  time, 
iii.  252  ; 

his  admiration  for  Chaucer, 
iii.  259. 

Speciihtm  Majus. 

(See  Vmceiit  of  Beauvais^ 
Speculum  Stidtoriim. 

(See  Nigelhcs  Werekerl) 
Speght,  Thomas, 

his  life  of  Chaucer,  and  refer- 
ences to,  i.  16,  99,  104,  154- 
158, 160  ff,  164,  169, 171,  172, 
I79>  185,  188,  ii.  171  ; 
his  editions  of  Chaucer’s 
works,  and  references  to,  i. 
270-280,  296,  343,  441,  442, 
444, 463, 470,  483,  490,  ii.  170, 
363,  401,  406,  iii.  44,  51,  59, 
92,  352,  405  n. 

Spence,  Joseph, 
anecdotes  of  Pope,  iii.  96, 

234; 

anecdotes  of  Addison,  iii.  96. 
Spenser,  Edmund, 

errors  as  to  facts  in  his  life,  i. 
27,29; 

his  doubt  as  to  the  genuine- 
ness of  the  Plowman’s  tale, 

.^•470: 

his  diction,  i.  1502,  ii.  136,  iii. 

137,  150; 

inaccuracy  of  his  learning,  i. 
247,  ii.  191  ; 

his  admiration  for  Chaucer, 
iii.  42-46,  245  ; 

his  conclusion  to  the  Squire’s 
tale,  iii.  45,  191  ; 
versification  of,  iii.  54-57,  305  ; 
Addison’s  characterization  of, 

iii.  95; 

imitations  of,  iii.  114,  119,  125, 
130,153,257; 

modernizations  of,  iii.  155  ; 
Landor’s  comparison  of,  with 
Chaucer,  iii.  214 ; 
his  attitude  towards  criticism, 
iii.  284 ; 

illusions,  i.  167,  310,  iii.  76,  94, 
128,  151,  259. 


Spenserian  stanza, 
iii.  305. 

Sprat,  Thomas, 
in  Addison’s  list  of  the  great- 
est English  poets,  iii.  96. 
Spurious  works  of  Chaucer, 
List  of, 
i.  504  n. 

Squire’s  tale.  The, 
incompleteness  of,  i.  445,  446, 
iii.  434,437; 

illustrations  from,  of  the  tests 
of  genuineness,  ii.  115,  127, 
129,  138,  141  ; 

illustrations  from,  of  the  inac- 
curacy of  Chaucer’s  schol- 
arship, ii.  391  ; 

Spenser’s  conclusion  to,  iii. 

45; 

Milton’s  allusion  to,  iii.  75  ; 
Boyse’s  modernization  of,  iii. 

190,  193,  195,  21 1 ; 

Hunt’s  modernization  of,  iii. 
211,  217  ; 

Chaucer’s  literary  art  as  shown 
in,  iii.  317  ff,  330,  426. 

Stace,  Geoffrey, 
i.  51. 

Stanzas  and  measures  of  com- 
plex and  artificial  charac- 
ter, 

experiments,  iii.  307-316. 
Staplegate,  Edmund, 

Chaucer’s  wardship  of,  i.  65, 

154. 

Statius, 

Chaucer’s  error  as  to,  ii.  245  ; 
Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  249,  252, 
253,  258,  262,  416,  419,  iii. 
424; 

Thebaid,  ii.  252,  253,  347,  403, 
510,  iii.  378; 

Achilleis,  ii.  252 ; 
allusions,  ii.  256,  iii.  145,  249. 
Staveren,  Augustinus  van, 
his  Auctores  Mythographi La- 
tim  cited,  ii.  382  n. 

Steele,  Richard, 

Poetical  Miscellany,  iii.  361. 


INDEX 


503 


Storial  Mirrour, 
ii.  377- 

(See  Vincent  of  Beauvaisi) 
Stow,  John,  . 

Speght  s indebtedness  to,  i. 
154,270; 

his  part  in  the  edition  of  1561, 

i.  269,  274,  296  ; 

his  additions  to  the  list  of 
Chaucer’s  poems,  and  refer- 
ences to,  i.  437-445. 457. 475. 
485,  490,  497,  iii.  310; 
attributes  the  Flower  of 
Courtesy  to  Lydgate,  i, 

456; 

on  Chaucer’s  relations  to  the 
English  language,  ii.  438  ; 
allusion,  i.  470. 

Strode,  Ralph, 

Leland’s  mention  of,  i.  135, 
170. 

Sturry,  Sir  Richard, 
commissioner,  i.  69. 

Style,  Chaucer’s, 
clearness  of,  i.  349,  350  ; 
as  a test  of  genuineness,  i. 

378-380,  ii.  77,  78  ; 
identified  with  that  of  the 
Romance  of  the  Rose,  ii. 

78-160, 537-551 ; 

in  translations,  ii.  209; 
as  affected  by  Italian  writers, 

ii.  224; 

directness  of,  iii.  170  ff,  326- 

330; 

growth  of,  i.  409,  410,  iii.  439, 
440; 

naturalness  of,  iii.  440-443. 
Styx, 

Chaucer’s  error  as  to,  ii.  182. 
Subjects,  choice  of, 

Chaucer’s  growth  of  taste  in, 

iii.  330  ff. 

Success,  Chaucer’s  social  and 
political, 

i.  120. 

Suetonius, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  249,  265, 
274,  278,  284-286. 


Suidas, 

ii.  404. 

Summoner’s  tale.  The, 

illustrations  from,  of  the  tests 
of  genuineness,  i.  403,  ii.  42, 
64,  1 14,  1 17,  1 19,  148  ; 
books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  ii.  270,  328,  396  ; 
Chaucer’s  religious  opinions 
as  shown  in,  ii.  520 ; 

Gay’s  Answer  to  Prologue  of, 

iii.  125  ; 

Grosvenor’s  modernization  of, 

iii.  190,  192. 

Superstitions,  common,  Chau- 
cer’s attitude  towards, 
ii.  499,  500. 

Surigon,  Stephen, 
i.  141,  142,  434,  441. 

Surrey,  Henry  Howard,  Earl  of, 
Nott’s  view  of,  i.  331  ; 
blank  verse  introduced  by,  iii. 

48; 

his  language,  iii.  137,  150,  151  ; 
allusion,  i.  218. 

Swift,  Jonathan, 
on  settling  the  language,  iii. 
146  ff. 

Swynford,  Katharine,  widow  of 
Hugh, 

i.  98,  104  ff,  1 1 1. 

Swynford,  Sir  Hugh, 
i.  98. 

Swynford,  Thomas, 

i.  III. 

Sylvester,  Joshua, 

'i.  179  n. 

Synonymous  words.  Character- 
istic use  of, 

common  to  Chaucer’s  admit- 
ted works  and  the  Romance 
of  the  Rose,  ii.  153-158. 

Syntaxis. 

(See  Ptolemyi) 

Tables  TolletaneSy 

ii.  398. 

Tacitus, 

not  referred  to  by  Vincent  of 
Beauvais,  ii.  378. 


504 


INDEX 


Talfourd,  Sir  Thomas  Noon, 
iii.  214. 

Taste,  Chaucer’s  change  of, 
iii-  335-339- 

(See  Changes  of  Method,  Chaii- 
cer’s.) 

Tate,  Nathan, 

Poems  by  Several  Hands, 
quoted,  iii.  93. 

Tempest,  Shakspeare’s, 

its  observance  of  the  unities, 
iii.  48. 

Temple  Bar  Magazine,  The, 
cited,  iii.  225  n. 

Tem^ple  of  Glass,  The, 
as  name  of  Chaucer’s  Dream, 

i- 483- 

Ten  Brink,  Prof.  Bernhard, 
on  Chaucer’s  versification,  i. 

373  n.,  394.  ii-  57  n. ; 
on  Chaucer’s  originals,  ii.  214, 
227,  241,  243,  248  ; 
on  Lollius,  ii.  409, 410  ; 
acknowledgment  to.  Intro- 
duction, xxvii. 

Ten  Commandments  of  Love, 
The  (No.  49), 

added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Stow,  i.  440 ; 
its  genuineness  denied  by 
Tyrwhitt,  i.  475  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504 
n. 

Tennyson,  Alfred, 

i.  167, 
ii-  370, 
iii.  214. 

Tertullian, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  290-292  ; 
De  Pallio,  ii.  290  ; 

De  Cultu  Femmarum,  ii.  291  ; 
Ad  Uxorevi,  ii.  291  ; 

De  Exhortatione  Casiitatis,  ii. 
291  ; 

De  Virgiiiibus  Velandis,  ii.  524. 
Terza  rima, 
iii.  311. 

Teseide,  La. 

(See  BoccaccioT) 


Testament  of  Cressida  and  her 
Complaint,  The  (No.  4), 
Leland’s  mention  of,  i.  139; 
named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.  431 ; 
its  genuineness  denied  by  F. 

Thynne,  i.  457 ; 
assigned  by  Kinaston  and 
Urry  to  Henryson,  i.  460, 
iii.  20; 

classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 
Testamejit  de  Jea7t  de  MeJnmg, 
Le. 

(See  Meimg,Jean  det) 
Testament  of  Love,  The  (No. 
20), 

Gower’s  supposed  reference 
to,  i.  44,  480  ; 

mentioned  by  Leland,  i.  140; 
summary  of,  i.  180-185; 
the  legend  founded  upon,  i. 
188  ff,  454; 

its  spuriousness,  i.  200-210; 
its  spuriousness  pointed  out 
by  Hertzberg,  i.  204; 
named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.  432  ; 
its  genuineness  not  denied  by 
Tyrwhitt,  i.  480 ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. ; 
its  criticism  of  those  who 
write  in  Latin  and  French, 

ii. 458; 

its  commendation  of  Chaucer, 

iii.  II. 

Testimony,  Personal  and  con- 
temporary, as  a test  of  gen- 
uineness, 

i.  367,  368,  370,  380. 

Tests  of  genuineness, 

the  first  class,  or  absolute,  i. 

367-370,  380,  498-501  ; 
the  second  class,  or  corrobo- 
ratory, i.  370-410; 
applied  to  the  Romance  of 
the  Rose,  ii.  17-160,  537- 

551. 

Tetrabiblos. 

(See  Ftolejny.) 

Teutonic  speech,  Verstegan’s 
view  of, 

ii.  439-441. 


INDEX 


505 


Text  of  Chaucer,  The. 

(See  Table  of  Co7ttents,  chap, 
ziil) 

‘ The  longe  nightes  when  every 
creature  ’ (No.  58), 
added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Stow,  i.  440  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504 
n. ; 

genuineness  and  versification 
of,  iii.  310,  31 1. 

‘The  more  I go,  the  farther  I 
am  behind  ’ (No.  72), 
added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  R.  Bell,  i.  451  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 

‘ The  world  so  wide,  the  air  so 
remuable’  (No.  71), 
ascribed  by  Ritson  to  Hal- 
sam,  i.  451 ; 

added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  R.  Bell,  i.  451  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 

Thebaid. 

(See  Statius.) 

Thebes  and  Greece, 

Chaucer’s  error  as  to,  ii.  182. 

Theobaldus, 

Physiologies  de  Naturis  xii 
Aiiimatmui,  ii.  337,  419. 

Theology,  doctrinal, 

Chaucer’s  interest  in,  ii.  531- 

535. 

Theophrastus, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  289,  290, 

364-367 ; 

Aureolus  Theophrasti  Liber 
de  Nuptiis,  ii.  366,  379. 

Thespis, 

Gawin  Douglas’s  error  as  to, 
ii.  190. 

Thisbe,  The  Story  of, 
ii.  251. 

Thomas,  Timothy, 
i.  291. 

Thomas,  William, 
i.  186,  291. 

Thompson,  William, 

imitations  of  Chaucer,  iii.  125. 


Thomson,  James, 

his  use  of  obsolete  words,  iii. 

153. 

Thopas,  The  Tale  of  Sir, 

illustrations  from,  of  the  tests 
of  genuineness,  i.  388,  ii.  13, 
27,  28 ; 

books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  ii.  49,  201,  302  ; 

Z.  A.  Z.’s  modernization  of, 
iii.  217  ; 

Bishop  Hurd  on,  iii.  243  ; 
versification  of,  iii.  300 ; 
the  Gestes  satirized  in,  iii,  331 ; 
incompleteness  of,  iii.  434, 
Thurlow,  Edward  Hovel,  second 
Lord, 

modernizations  of  Chaucer, 

i.  489,  iii.  203,  204,  206-208. 
Thynne,  Francis, 

his  Animadversions  cited,  i. 

163,  267,  268,  272,  273, 436  ; 
on  the  necessity  of  separating 
and  rejecting  works  wrong- 
ly attributed  to  Chaucer,  i. 

457; 

on  the  omission  of  the  Pil- 
grim’s tale  from  his  father’s 
edition,  i.  462  ff ; 
on  the  original  of  the  Knight’s 
tale,  ii.  204 ; 

on  the  threatened  prohibition 
of  Chaucer’s  works,  ii,  476  ; 
on  the  versification  of  Chau- 
cer, iii.  51. 

Thynne,  Sir  John, 
i.  463. 

Thynne,  William, 
his  editions  of  Chaucer’s 
works,  and  references  to,  i. 
139,  146,  243,  265-270,  296, 

ii.  6 n.,  10,  476,  iii.  437  ; 
the  texts  compared,  i.  276  ff ; 
his  list  of  Chaucer’s  works, 

and  references  to,  i.  430-437, 
413,444, 461,462,474, 481. 
To  the  King’s  most  Noble  Grace 
(No.  37), 

named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i. 

434; 


INDEX 


506 

included  in  R.  Bell’s  edition, 

i.  478 ; 

classed  in  this  work,  i.  504 

n. 

Todd,  Henry  John, 
his  Illustrations  of  the  Lives 
and  Writings  of  Gower  and 
Chaucer  cited,  i.  272,  ii.  172  ; 
his  edition  of  Spenser  cited, 
iii.  65,  155. 

Tomb  of  Darius, 
ii-  353.  354. 

Tonson,  Jacob, 

publishes  Pope’s  first  mod- 
ernization of  Chaucer,  iii. 

179; 

publishes  three  volumes  of 
the  Canterbury  Tales  of 
Chaucer  Modernized  by 
Several  Hands,  iii.  190. 
Tortula, 

ii.  289. 

Toy,  Robert, 

publisher,  i.  269. 

Tractatiis  ad  Laudein  Gloriosce 
Virgmis  Matris. 

( See  Beriiard  of  Clairvaitx, 
Samt.) 

Tragedies, 

Chaucer’s  criticism  of  the,  iii. 
332-335- 

Translator,  Chaucer  as  a, 

iii.  366. 

Trapp,  Joseph, 

on  Dryden’s  commendation 
of  Chaucer,  iii.  232. 

Trivet,  Nicolas, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  209,  210  ; 
Anglo-Norman  Chronicle,  ii. 
210. 

Troilus  and  Cressida  (No.  3), 
Leland’s  mention  of,  i.  135, 

139; 

autobiographic  material  in,  i. 
227,  359; 

date  of  Campsall  text,  i.  240 ; 
textual  errors  illustrated  from, 
i.  245,  254; 

printed  by  Caxton,  i.  265  ; 


Chaucer  Society  texts  of,  i. 

340.  341 ; 

named  in  the  Legend  of  Good 
Women,  i.  41 1 ; 

named  in  the  Retractation,  i. 

413; 

named  in  Lydgate’s  list,  i. 
420  ; 

named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.431  ; 

indebtedness  of  other  poems 
to,  i.  453,  482  ; 

classed  in  this  work,  i.  504 
n.  ; 

illustrations  from,  of  the  tests 
of  genuineness,  i.  374,  393, 
394.397.  398.402,  ii.  21  ff,  30 
ff,  34,45  n.,  51,  54,  62,63,65, 
71,  85,  95,  114  ff,  127,  128, 
131,  132,  135,  139,  140,  142- 
150; 

illustrations  from,  of  the  inac- 
curacy of  Chaucer’s  schol- 
arship, i.  182,  205  ; 

books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  i.  293,  333,  ii.  225, 
227,  228,  236,  240,  241,  252, 
253.  258,  260,  261,  267,  287  n., 
309,  312,  359, 406  ff,  410,  41 1, 
iii.  424,  425  ; 

Chaucer’s  opinions  as  shown 
in,  ii.  481,  498,  510,  514,519, 
532  n.,  533; 

its  literary  history,  iii.  10,  32, 

33.  67 ; 

Kinaston’s  Latin  translation 
of,  iii.  76-82,  104,  154 ; 

indebtedness  to,  of  the  imita- 
tion in  the  Return  from 
Parnassus,  iii.  1 16  ; 

Wordsworth’s  modernization 
of  a portion  of,  iii.  217  ; 

extracts  from,  in  Clarke’s  The 
Riches  of  Chaucer,  iii.  269; 

Chaucer’s  attitude  towards 
criticism  as  shown  in,  iii. 
285  ; 

his  literary  art  as  shown  in, 
iii.  319,  320,  328,  329,  369, 
370.  373.  374 : 

anachronisms  in,  iii.  377  ff. 


INDEX 


50; 


Trojan  war,  legendary  cycle  of, 
Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  i.  302-304,  ii. 

303.  305-317- 

Trophe, 

ii.  408,  411,  413,  415. 
Trouveres, 

Sandras’s  claim  of  Chaucer’s 
indebtedness  to  the,  iii. 
407-412. 

Troye,  Roman  de. 

(See  Benoit  de  Saint e-M ore}} 
‘Trust  well,’  ‘trust  me,’  ‘trust- 
eth  well,’  ‘ trusteth  me,’ 
use  of  the  phrases,  as  tests  of 
the  genuineness  of  the  Ro- 
mance of  the  Rose,  ii.  99, 
549- 

Truth  stranger  than  fiction,  why, 

iii.  400. 

Tuke,  Sir  Brian, 

his  Dedicatory  Epistle  to 
Thynne’s  edition  of  Chau- 
cer, i.  139,  266-268. 

Turner,  Sharon, 
i.  17  n. 

Tyrwhitt,  Thomas, 
on  events  in  Chaucer’s  life,  i. 

16,  96.  99,  170,  186,  190 ; 
on  editions  of  Chaucer  other 
than  his  own,  i.  263,  268,  288, 
292,  297,  413  n.,  460  n. ; 
his  edition  of  the  Canterbury 
Tales,  i.  300-313,  ii.  3 n.,  31 1, 
iii.  139,  158,  219,  224,  254; 
attacked  by  Wright,  i.  315- 
321,  iii.  394; 

attacked  by  G.  Chalmers,  i. 
322; 

his  text,  i.  249,  2t;o,  323,  324, 
336,  344,  437,  ii.  73; 
his  theory  of  Chaucer’s  versi- 
fication, i.  328,  329,  iii.  50; 
Nott  on,  i.  332  ; 
his  list  of  words  in  Chaucer’s 
works  he  could  not  define, 

i-  350; 

works  of  Chaucer  rejected  or 
not  mentioned  by,  i.  449,. 
464, 466, 473-479,  ii.  466 ; 


the  question  of  the  genuine- 
ness of  certain  works  ac- 
cepted by,  i.  480-503,  iii. 
4x0 ; 

on  the  texts  of  the  Romance 
of  the  Rose,  ii.  10 ; 
on  the  learning  of  Chaucer, 
ii.  186,  204 ; 
on  originals 

of  lost  works  of  Chaucer, 

i. 423,  ii.  300; 

of  Man’of  Law’s  tale,  ii.  210, 

385; 

of  Death  of  Blanche,  ii. 
212 ; 

of  Nun’s  Priest’s  tale,  ii. 
215,  273; 

of  Reeve’s  tale,  ii.  216  ; 
of  passages  in  Prologue, 
Knight’s  tale,  and  Man- 
ciple’s tale,  ii.  219 ; 
of  Monk’s  tale,  ii.  219,  232 
n.,  233,235  ; 

of  Doctor’s  tale,  ii.  219  ; 
of  Miller’s  tale,  ii.  249; 
of  Pardoner’s  tale,  ii.  270; 
of  Wife  of  Bath’s  tale,  ii. 

290. 379.  396,  397  ; 
of  Merchant’s  tale,  ii.  384; 
of  Canon’s  Yeoman’s  tale, 

ii.  392; 

on  the  Roman  de  Troye,  ii. 

311; 

on  the  Distichs  of  Cato  Par- 
vus, ii.  361  ; 
on  Agathon,  ii.  401  ; 
on  Lollius,  ii.  406  ; 
on  Zanzis,  ii.  41 1 ; 
on  Zael,  ii.  414; 
on  Chaucer’s  relations  to  the 
English  language,  ii.  445, 
448  fi ; 

in  the  literary  history  of 
Chaucer,  i.  455,  iii.  130,  254- 
258. 

Ugolino,  The  Story  of, 
ii.  239. 

Universal  Doctor,  The  title  of, 
ii.  179. 


5o8 


INDEX 


Universal  Magazine,  The, 
on  the  Donnington  Oak,  i. 
179  n. 

Upton,  John, 

accepts  the  genuineness  of 
the  Plowman’s  tale,  i.  472. 

Urban  VL, 
ii.  325. 

Urry,  John, 

the  life  of  Chaucer  prefixed 
to  his  edition,  and  refer- 
ences to,  i.  17,  99,  158,  159, 
166,  169,  186-190; 
his  edition  of  Chaucer’s  works, 
and  references  to,  i.  283- 
294,  413  n.,  414,  435,  ^458, 
460,  ii.  6 n.,  401,  406,  iii.  81, 
190  ; 

his  additions  to  the  list  of 
Chaucer’s  works,  i.  446-448 ; 
on  Chaucer’s  versification,  iii. 

255; 

on  the  morality  of  the  Miller’s 
tale,  iii.  351. 

U X or em.  Ad. 

(See  Tertullian^ 

Valerius  Flaccus, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  249,  258- 
260 ; 

Argonauizca,  ii.  259. 

Valerius  Maximus, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  249,  257, 
265,  273,  274-277 ; 

De  Factis  Dictisque  Memora- 
bilibiis,  ii.  273. 

Valerhis  ad  Rufizmm, 

(See  Mapes,  Walter b) 

Valery, 

ii.  289,  290,  367  ff. 

(See  Mapes,  Walter.) 

Valettus,  armiger,  sciitifer, 

i.  61. 

Varro, 

ii.  260. 

“ Venerable,” 

epithet  applied  to  Chaucer  by 
Gawin  Douglas,  i.  42. 


Venus, 

Chaucer’s  error  as  to  source 
of  her  surname  of  Cythe- 
rea,  ii.  181. 

Venus,  The  Complaint  of  (No. 

24), 

autobiographic  material  in,  i. 
40,  41 ; 

mentioned  by  Leland,  i.  140; 
named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.  433  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i,  504  n. ; 
illustrations  from,  of  the  tests 
of  genuineness,  i.400,  ii.  21  ; 
a translation  from  Granson’s 
poems,  ii.  207,  iii.  450,  45 1 ; 
R.  Bell’s  modernization  of,  iii. 
217 ; 

versification  of,  iii.  308,  309, 
31D  312. 

Verse. 

(See  Alliterative  verse ; He- 
roic verse;  Octosyllabic  verse; 
Ryme  Royal;  Ryming  verse; 
Stanzas  and  measures^) 
Versification  of  Chaucer, 
references  to,  i.  285,  286,  290, 
299,  300 ; 

discussion  of,  i.  328-335  ; 
perfection  of,  i.  347,  348 ; 
its  growth  in  freedom,  i.  408- 
410,  ii.  164,  165  ; 
views  of,  as  wanting  in  regu- 
larity, iii.  51-58,  109-112; 
Tyrwhitt’s  vindication  of,  iii. 
255-258; 

result  of  conscious  skill,  iii. 
295,  296 ; 

its  value,  iii.  297,  298  ; 
its  originality,  variety,  and 
development,  iii.  298-316. 
Versificatione,  De. 

(See  Eberhardusi) 

Verstegan,  Richard, 

Chaucer  as  a corrupter  of  the 
English  language,  ii.  438- 
441,  451 ; 

his  Restitution  of  Decayed 
Intelligence  cited,  ii.  43S. 
Village  without  Painting. 

(See  Visage  without  Painth  igi) 


INDEX  509 


Villon,  Francis, 

compared  with  Chaucer  by 
Matthew  Arnold,  iii.  362. 

Vincent  of  Beauvais, 

Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  375-381. 
speculum  Majus  ox  Bibliotheca 
Mimdi,  ii.  375  ff,  383. 

Vinesauf,  Geoffrey  de, 

Chaucer’s  mention  of,  ii.  224 
n.,  341,  342,  420; 

Nova  Poetria,  ii.  341,  342. 

Vi  relay, 
iii.  312. 

Virgil, 

Chaucer  compared  with,  i. 

137: 

mistakes  of  Chaucer  in  ren- 
dering, ii.  184,  205  : 

Gower’s  error  as  to,  ii.  190; 
Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  and 
obligations  to,  ii.  249  ff,  258, 
416,  419,  iii.  321,  368,  424, 
426 ; 

allusions,  i.  238,  242,  ii.  352, 
502,  iii.  21,  22,  158,  231,  249. 

Virginia,  The  Story  of, 

ii.  219,  279,  281,  285,  298, 

iii.  379. 

Virgimbus  Velajidis,  De. 

(See  Tertulliani) 

Visage  without  Painting,  Bal- 
lade of  (No.  31), 
printed  before  1 532,  i.  429  ; 
named  in  Thynne’s  list,  i.  433  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. ; 
the  literary  tests  of  genuine- 
ness illustrated  from,  ii. 
150; 

books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  ii.  208,  296. 

Visconti,  Bernardo,  Lord  of 
Milan, 

Chaucer’s  mission  to,  i.  70. 

Vitellio,  Polish  mathematician, 
ii.  391- 

Vocabulary,  Chaucer’s, 

as  a test  of  genuineness,  i.  377, 
378,  398,  399.  ii.  19-34.  49- 
51.  537,  538: 


general  character  of,  ii.  449- 

453. 

Voltaire, 

characterization  of  Shak- 
speare,  iii.  248. 

Volucraire, 

alleged  obligations  of  Chau- 
cer to,  iii.  41 1. 

Wade  and  his  Boat, 

i-  351- 

Wakefield,  Henry  de, 
i.  62. 

Waldron,  Francis  Godolphin, 
iii.  81. 

Waller,  Edmund, 
on  the  permanency  of  the 
classic  tongues,  iii.  83,  84, 
140,  146 ; 

on  Chaucer’s  versification,  iii. 
Ill; 

allusions,  ii.  223,  iii.  109,  147. 

Walpole,  Horace, 

on  enrichment  of  the  lan- 
guage by  Chaucer,  ii,  445  ; 
his  ignorance  of  Early  Eng- 
lish, iii.  151  ; 

on  Dr3Men’s  modernizations 
of  Chaucer,  iii.  1 58,  1 59  ; 
his  use  of  the  term  “ Gothic,” 
iii.  251, 

Walsingham,  Thomas  of, 

his  Historia  A7iglicana  cited, 
i.  91,  92. 

Warburton,  Bishop, 

accepts  genuineness  of  the 
Plowman’s  tale,  i.  472  ; 
on  Chaucer’s  introduction  of 
Provengal  words,  ii.  448, 
449- 

Ward,  Prof.  Adolphus  William, 
Chaucer’s  age  and  the  Oc- 
cleve  portrait,  i.  50. 

Ward,  Mr.  Henry, 

Chaucer’s  obligations  to  La 
Teseide,  ii.  226. 

Ward,  Thomas  Humphry, 
his  English  Poets  cited,  iii.  362. 

Wardships  given  to  Chaucer, 
i.65. 154. 


510 


INDEX 


Warton,  Joseph, 
iii.  i86. 

Warton,  Thomas, 

on  Chaucer  as  a disciple  of 
Gower,  i.  149 ; 

on  Chaucer  as  a student  of 
Oxford,  i.  169 ; 

on  the  genuineness  of  the 
Plowman’s  tale,  i.  472  ; 
on  the  original  of  the  Knight’s 
tale,  ii.  204 ; 

on  Valerius  Maximus,  ii.  276; 
on  Chaucer’s  knowledge  of 
Livy,  ii,  279 ; 

on  Benoit  de  Sainte-More;  ii. 

310: 

on  the  Alexandreid,  ii.  354; 
on  Lollius,  ii.  406,  407  ; 
an  explorer,  iii.  26  ; 
on  Chaucer  as  a sunny  day  in 
an  English  spring,  iii.  27  ; 
sees  Milton’s  hand  in  Phil- 
lips’s account  of  Chaucer, 
iii.  91  ; 

modernizations  of  Chaucer, 
iii.  158,  184; 

his  criticism  of  Chaucer,  iii. 
244-253; 

on  Chaucer’s  anachronisms, 
iii.  375  ; 

on  the  source  of  the  House  of 
Fame,  iii.  397,  398  ; 
on  Chaucer  as  an  imitator  of 
Alain  Chartier,  iii.  406, 

Warton,  Rev.  Thomas, 

imitations  of  Chaucer,  iii.  125, 
126. 

Webbe,  William, 
his  Discourse  of  English 
Poetry  cited,  iii.  42. 

Weisse,  John  Adam  (M.D,), 
his  Origin,  Progress,  and  Des- 
tiny of  the  English  Lan- 
guage and  Literature  quot- 
ed, ii.434,  435- 

Welsted,  Leonard, 

on  change  in  language,  iii. 
142,  143. 

West,  Gilbert, 

his  use  of  obsolete  words,  iii. 
152. 


Westhale,  Joan  de, 
abduction  of,  i.  51. 
Westminster, 

Chaucer’s  tenement  in,  i.  93. 
Weymouth,  Dr.  R.  F., 
on  distinction  of  sound  be- 
tween here  and  there,  ii.  17, 
18. 

Wharton,  Henry, 
his  commendation  of  Chau- 
cer’s learning,  ii.  171  ; 
his  sketch  of  Chaucer’s  life,  ii. 
465. 

Wharton,  Richard, 
his  modernization  of  the 
Franklin’s  tale,  iii.  205. 
Whimsical  Legacy,  The,  Grosve- 
nor’s, 
iii.  192. 

Wife  of  Bath’s  tale.  The, 
alteration  of  text  of,  i.  256- 
258; 

textual  errors  illustrated  from, 

1.307; 

illustrations  from,  of  the  tests 
of  genuineness,  ii.  49,  51, 
115,  116,  127,  132,  137,  141, 
142,  147,  149; 

illustration  from,  of  the  inac- 
curacy of  Chaucer’s  schol- 
arship, ii.  186 ; 

books  and  authors  used  or 
named  in,  ii.  219,  236,  237, 
239,  251,  260,  269,  275,  289, 
292,  318,  319,  352.  364,  365, 
367  ff,  372,  379,  396,  400, 415, 

iii.  452; 

Chaucer’s  sceptical  tendency 
as  shown  in,  ii.  496  ; 
the  attack  upon  celibacy  ccm- 
tained  in  the  prologue  of, 

ii.  522-530; 

imitation  of  prologue  of,  by 
Dunbar,  iii.  20 ; 

commonplaced  by  Milton,  iii. 

76: 

Dryden’s  modernization  of, 

iii.  162,  176,  178 ; 

Pope’s  modernization  of,  iii. 
181,  182,  185  ; 


INDEX  51 1 


Chaucer’s  literary  art  as  shown 

in,  iii.  340,353,417; 

prologue  of,  misapprehended, 
iii.  360,  361. 

William  of  Newburgh, 
ii.  316. 

Winstanley,  William, 
his  Lives  of  the  English  Poets 
cited,  i,  1 59. 

Wit,  Chaucer’s, 

depreciation  of,  by  the  Rev. 
A.  G.  K.  L’Estrange,  iii.  290. 

‘ Withouten  doute,’  ‘ withouten 
drede,’  ‘withouten  more,’ 
‘withouten  mo,’  ‘withouten 
wordes  more,’  ‘ withouten 
wordes  mo,’ 

use  of  the  phrases,  as  tests  of 
the  genuineness  of  the  Ro- 
mance of  the  Rose,  ii.  92, 
544-546,  iii.  452. 

Wolsey,  Cardinal, 

supposed  suppression  of  the 
Plowman’s  tale,  i.  462,  467, 
469. 

Woman, 

Chaucer’s  relations  to,  and 
attitude  towards,  i.  97,  98, 
1 12-1 1 5,  21 1-221,  ii.  7,  291  ff, 
515,  522-530,  iii.  340-344. 

Women  for  their  Doubleness,  A 
Ballade  in  Praise  of  (No. 
46), 

added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Stow,  i.  439  ; 
attributed  to  Lydgate,  i.  475  ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 

Women  Unconstant,  A Ballade 
against  (No.  45), 
added  to  list  of  Chaucer’s 
poems  by  Stow,  i.  439  ; 
the  question  of  its  genuine- 
ness, i.  475,  504 ; 
classed  in  this  work,  i.  504  n. 

Wood,  Anthony  a, 
his  Athense  Oxonienses  cited, 
i.  281,  ii.  444,  iii.  87,  98. 

Woodstock, 

Chaucer’s  supposed  residence 
at,  i.  103,  141,  175-177. 


Woodstock,  Thomas  of,  Duke 
of  Gloucester, 
i.  82,  83. 

Worde,  Wynken  de, 

his  edition  of  Chaucer’s  works, 
i.  264,  iii.  33. 

Words,  Chaucer’s, 

number  of,  not  yet  defined,  i, 

350; 

revival  of,  in  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, iii.  58-65. 

Words  and  phrases.  Distinctive, 
common  to  Chaucer’s  admit- 
ted works  and  Romance  of 
the  Rose,  ii,  86-121,  539- 

551; 

not  common  to  the  two,  ii. 
103,  104. 

Wordsworth,  William, 

his  dictum  that  every  great 
original  writer  must  create 
his  own  audience,  iii.  9 ; 
his  modernizations  of  Chau- 
cer, i.  489,  iii.  208-210  ; 
joins  in  the  last  of  the  mod- 
ernizations, iii.  214-229; 
his  admiration  for  Chaucer, 
and  for  Chaucer’s  treatment 
of  simple  themes,  iii.  259, 
441. 

Works  attributed  to  Chaucer, 
classification  of,  with  refer- 
ence to  genuineness,  i.  503, 
504. 

Wretched  Engendering  of  Man- 
kind, The, 

named  in  the  Legend  of  Good 
Women,  i.  412 ; 

a translation  from  the  De  Con- 
temptu  Mundi  of  Pope  In- 
nocent III.,  i.  423,  426,  427. 

Wright,  Thomas, 

his  edition-  of  Chaucer’s 
works,  i.  313-324,  328,  ii.  3 n. ; 
his  attacks  on  Tyrwhitt’s  text, 
i.  315-321: 

indebtedness  to,  of  R.  Bell’s 
edition,  i.  325.  478  ; 
his  Political  Poems  and  Songs 
cited,  i.  443  n.,  460  n.  ; 


512 


INDEX 


points  out  the  original  of  the 
story  of  Constance  in  Chau- 
cer and  Gower,  ii.  210  ; 
on  the  original  of  the  Nun’s 
Priest’s  tale,  ii.  21 5 ; 
on  the  original  of  the  Reeve’s 
. tale,  i.  315,  319,  ii.  216,  iii. 


413.  414; 

on  the  language  of  Chaucer, 

ii.  450 ; 

on  Chaucer’s  want  of  origi- 
nality, iii.  394. 

Writings  of  Chaucer,  The, 

(See  Table  of  Coiiteats,  chap, 
ivl) 

Wyatt,  Sir  Thomas, 
love-poetry  of,  i.  218  ; 

Nott’s  edition  of  his  poems,  i. 

331; 

F.  Thyfme’s  mention  of,  i. 

463; 

on  the  Tale  of  Sir  Thopas,  iii. 
244. 

Wycliffe,  John, 

Chaucer’s  attitude  towards, 

ii.  459-485 ; 

effects  of  his  teachings,  ii. 


492-494. 


Wynne,  William  W.  E., 

i.  340. 

Yalden,  Thomas, 

mention  of  Chaucer,  iii.  92.  • 

-ye  and  -y  test  of  genuineness, 

i-37i-375.  388-394,  ii.  57,58. 

Young,  Edward, 
i-  334-  . 

Ypotis,  Sir,  Romance  of, 
Chaucer’s  knowledge  of,  ii. 
201. 

Zael, 

Liber  FJectionum,  ii.  415. 
Zanzis,  unknown  author, 

ii.  41 1,  412. 

Z.  A.Z., 

his  modernization  of  the  Tale 
'of  Sir  Thopas,  iii.  217. 
Zenobia, 

Chaucer’s  error  as  to,  ii.  185, 
186. 

the  story  of,  ii.  231,  233,  235, 
iii.  12. 

Zeuxis, 

conjecture  as  to  identity  of 
Zanzis  with,  ii.  412. 


THE  END 


